Reunions and Revelations
by LizAna
Summary: (set after 2x11) My take on how the first meeting between Connor, Charlie and Bass might go, with a whole lot of Charloe thrown in. For the time being, shadowing the TV show week by week.
1. Chapter 1

Charlie slipped along in the shadows of the tent, waiting for the midnight patrol to walk by, before ducking low and running over to the fence. In a matter of seconds, she'd rolled underneath the hastily built barrier and dashed across the length of open space surrounding the camp. As she made it to the brush, she slowed her pace and blew out a long breath. A quick glance back toward the quarantine camp revealed nothing out of the ordinary — her little excursion had gone unnoticed, as it had the previous two nights. Really, if the Patriots wanted to stop people from entering or leaving the restricted area, they shouldn't have made their security patrols run like clockwork.

The full moon was high in the sky, and on a night like this in Texas, it was easy to see in the bright blue-white light. She ambled along, keeping her hand resting lightly on the handle of her sheathed knife, not really having a destination in mind, just needing to be away from the cloying smell of death, the spreading desperation, the sounds of people crying or moaning in sickness, and the constant, weighted watch of the Patriots.

When she'd left the camp the previous two nights, she'd been careful not to walk anywhere she might come across other people. She'd somewhat come to terms with the fact that she'd been exposed to typhus, and hadn't wanted to risk infecting anyone else. But today, her mom had turned up, back from her trip with Miles and Monroe to find the prodigal son.

When she'd first walked into the camp, Charlie had been pissed that her mom had exposed herself to the deadly disease. But it hadn't taken Rachel long to work out what was going on behind the scenes.

_And how did I not suspect the truth?_ She'd asked herself that question a hundred times already, but never got an answer.

A twig snapped just behind her, and off to her left, but she didn't stop walking or even hesitate, pretending like she hadn't heard the noise. Next came the light crunch of footsteps on dry grass, and then a swish as someone brushed by a bush. Whoever was following her was doing a pretty pathetic job at it. Couldn't have been a Patriot, the tread didn't sound like the heavy combat boots they all wore, and stomping through the brush like they were, the moron obviously didn't know the first thing about stealth, so couldn't have been much of a threat.

She slowed and then turned toward the source of the noise. "You know, following me isn't going to end well for you."

Silence greeted her words — absolute silence, as though the person had frozen on the spot.

"You might as well come out. I'm not really in a social mood tonight, and if I have to come in there after you, I can't guarantee you won't find yourself with a broken bone or two."

A slight rustling sounded, and then a figure moved out from behind the low bushes. "Well, aren't you all kinds of hostile."

The guy moved out into the moonlight, and she subtly tightened her hold on the handle of her knife, still sheathed. He looked to be only a few years older than her, and had wavy dark hair and dark eyes. His clothes might have once been good quality — obviously from money — but they looked liked they'd been rode hard for a few days. She eased into a defensive stance. These days, she didn't trust anyone she didn't know, especially the handsome ones.

"Why were you following me?"

He shrugged one shoulder, his expression edged in what could only be described as amusement.

"Why were you walking alone out here?" He countered

She glared at him. "If it's all the same, I'll ask the questions."

He held out his hands. "I didn't mean any harm. I was just curious. It's not safe for a girl to be wandering alone out here by herself."

A thread of apprehension slithered through her, and she took a step back. But the unease was backed up by a whole lot of pissed off… she hated it when people assumed she couldn't handle herself just because she was a girl.

"Original. Like I haven't heard that line before. Quit following me, or I'll make you."

He laughed outright at that, and stepped closer. "You'll _make_ me? I was just trying doing a good deed—"

"By making sure the poor defenseless, idiotic girl wandering around by herself was okay? Thanks, but I really don't need your help."

"Wow, you're rocking some serious hostility issues. Can't a guy just do the right thing?"

"In my experience, no one does anything because it's just the right thing. Usually they're looking to get something out of it. And I gotta tell you, in this case, you really did pick the wrong target."

He shook his head. "Wow. Before I was just curious, but now I'm really intrigued. You actually think I'm going to what, drag you down and have my way with you? I'm flattered, but we just met."

Oh, so he thought it was funny? Anger smoldered through her chest. "I'm assuming you haven't been living under a rock, you know what this world is like. Although, judging by those rich boy clothes you've got on, maybe you have been existing in pampered ignorance. But can you blame me for thinking the worst of a guy following a girl he doesn't know out in the middle of nowhere?"

He gave another laugh, though this one was shorter and had a harder edge to it. "Fine, you want to think the worst of me? Like I care. I'll go on my merry way. But just so you know, you might want to keep an eye out for the Patriot camp set up just over the next rise. A camp full of soldiers probably won't leave you be if they find you."

Charlie whipped her knife out and had it at his throat before he could take another breath. She grabbed a handful of his shirt at the shoulder to keep him steady.

"What do you know about the Patriot camp?"

His dark eyes burned with banked anger as he stared back at her. "Just that. Its some kind of quarantine camp for sick people. If I'd have known you'd try to slit my throat over it, I wouldn't have said anything."

Something moved in her peripheral vision, and Charlie shifted her attention, tightening her grip on the guy. Had he been a distraction to catch her off guard? Were there more of them? How would she get away? Her heart started pounding, memories of the time she'd been drugged and nearly gang raped trying to push to the surface. But she forced the obstructive recollections away as she shifted to put the guy she held between her and the other man.

Except then he stepped out of the shadows, and the moonlight highlighted the familiar face and blond-brown curls.

"Charlotte, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in quarantine?"

Relief flowed through her, followed by the newly familiar buzz she'd started getting around Sebastian Monroe in the past few weeks.

"Charlotte? As in Charlie?" The guy in front of her muttered.

Bass nodded. "Yeah, Connor, that's Charlie."

She tore her gaze from Bass to take another look at the guy she still held with a knife to his throat. "This is Connor?"

Bass shrugged. "Why is it that I don't find it surprising the two of you managed to get weapons on each other not even five minutes after meeting?"

"What do you mean, _weapons_? I'm the one with the knife—" She shifted, and felt the muzzle of a gun pressing into her side.

She let go of Connor with a hard shove, sending him stumbling a step. "You were going to shoot me?"

Connor tucked the gun away again and sent her a faintly offended look. "Well, you were going to slice my throat, so fair's fair, sweetheart."

"Oh, I wouldn't—" Bass started, but before he could finish the sentence, Charlie stepped forward and clocked Connor one, right in the jaw.

"That's the last time you call me sweetheart, got it?"

"Charming," Connor muttered darkly. He shot her a glare as he rubbed his jaw. He went to step back, but Charlie took another swing, catching him in the exact same spot. This time he stumbled before straightening. "Jesus. What the hell was that for?"

"That one was for what you did to Monroe. He might be a son of a bitch, but no one deserves to be strung up and whipped for entertainment."

"So, you heard about that, huh?" Connor worked his jaw back and forth, shifting back from her.

"Yeah, my mom told me everything. And for the record, I already don't trust you. What kind of person beats on their own family?"

Connor shot a glare at Monroe, before turning an angry gaze back on her. "I didn't have a choice. I don't know him from Adam; he might be my blood, but he's not my family. I lost everything because of this bastard, so don't go giving me any lectures."

"Then why are you here?"

Connor and Monroe shared a weighted glance and something passed between them, something that left her with a cold shiver passing under her skin. Monroe had obviously said something to convince Connor to come back with him, despite everything that had happened, and she didn't really know if she wanted to hear the gory details. Most likely, it would be something she wouldn't like, and she'd only recently gotten over her hating-Monroe-phase. Considering everything going on with the Patriots, she just didn't have the energy to expend over worrying about what the former general of the Monroe Republic was up to.

"Come on." Bass stepped forward, putting himself between her and Connor. "Our camp is this way. Miles just got back from meeting with your mom."

She nodded, and cut one more suspicious glance at Connor, before falling into step behind Monroe as he led them back to their camp.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie followed Bass as they headed toward a clearing, where Miles was standing by a small fire.

"Miles!" She hurried forward, accepting the embrace when he opened his arms to her.

"How've you been, kiddo? You obviously didn't listen to your mom when she told you to steer clear of the Patriots."

"It was all Grandpa's doing, believe me."

"Aw, come on, Miles, don't hug her." Bass said from behind her. "She's been down in the quarantine camp for the last couple of days; you're going to get cooties or something."

Miles grinned as he leaned back from her. "No chance, Bass. I just talked with Rachel and she said the disease isn't contagious, it's not spreading. The Patriots made the townsfolk sick. Could have been in the food or water. Rachel wants us to go into town and see if we can't work out how they're doing it."

"Oh great, more fun-filled adventures," Bass complained. "Who does she think we are, the Avengers?"

Charlie glanced at Miles. "Who are the Avengers?"

"Never mind," Miles muttered in return, sending Bass an exasperated glance. "You want to take down the Patriots? This is where we start."

"I know, how about we head back into the Monroe republic, see how many troops we can scare up, and then open up a battlefront against the sons of bitches instead?"

Miles stared at Bass with a hard expression for a long moment. "I can't decide which part of that idea is more stupid. First off, you're meant to be dead and it would probably be better for all concerned if you stayed that way. Secondly, do you really think any of your former soldiers will follow you anywhere, let alone into a battle where they'd likely be outnumbered a hundred to one? Last time you were anywhere near your men, they were taking pot shots at you."

Bass clenched his jaw and glanced away from Miles, a frustrated expression crossing his face.

"Wait, what do you mean last time his men were shooting at him?" Connor demanded, though why that was the one thing he decided to focus on, Charlie couldn't guess… Actually, she could guess, and she didn't like the scenarios it created.

"Just before the nukes fell, a group of his men tried to stage a little revolt and almost succeeded in taking Bass out. Since everyone also thinks you're responsible for the nukes, I can't see how you think you'd be able to convince anyone to follow you anywhere."

"Well, that's just great," Connor muttered, shooting Bass a nasty glare, before stalking a little way off to sit on a log.

"Anyway," Miles said, returning his attention to Bass. "The townspeople are sick and dying now. We don't have time to go looking for reinforcements we probably won't find. Plus, if we can get proof of what the bastards are doing, it'll help us in the long run when we need to convince people exactly how bad these guys are."

Bass glanced at Connor, and then ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, I'll come along on your little fact finding mission. But if I catch typhus, I'll be spitting in your whiskey, just to make sure you catch it too."

"Wonderful," Miles muttered. "Charlie, you better head back to the quarantine camp before anyone realizes you're missing."

She nodded. "Good luck, Miles. And don't take too long, we're probably lucky none of us has caught it so far."

Miles cupped a hand on her shoulder for a moment. "Just don't eat or drink anything they give you."

She backed up a step and cast one more curious glance at Connor, who was staring off into the distance with a brooding expression.

"Wait, Charlie," Bass said, grabbing her attention. "I'll walk you over there. I want to steal some fresh gauze for my back."

"What happened to avoiding the plague zone?" Miles asked.

"You just said that Rachel told you it's not contagious. I think I'll be safe enough to grab some bandages, as long as I don't get the urge to go french kissing any sick people."

Miles rolled his eyes. "Well, then, hurry up. Rachel needs us to go into town ASAP."

Bass nodded and walked over to join her. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Charlie sent Miles a small nod, before turning and heading away from the clearing, into the moonlit shadows of the scrub. Bass walked along silently beside her, and she couldn't help but notice the stiffness to his posture.

"Is your back giving you trouble?"

He glanced at her, blue eyes dark in the muted light. "No worse than can be expected after getting my flesh filleted."

She shook her head, a ripple of horror raking down her spine. She couldn't imagine how much it would have hurt, how appalling it would have been to watch.

"Lucky I wasn't there, otherwise I would have put an arrow through your son's chest. I couldn't have stood by and watch it happen like my mom did."

Bass glanced outward, away from her, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "He didn't have a choice, Charlie. I could have escaped and left him to his fate, but that psychotic bastard he'd been living with would have done the same to him. It was better that I took the punishment."

She didn't respond right away, taking a moment to digest the statement. So, Bass had let himself stay trapped, knowing what likely outcome would be, to spare a son he didn't even know? This was the kind of thing she couldn't assimilate with the heartless General Monroe she'd first met, the one she'd accused of being a sociopath. When Bass did things like this, it made it easier to put the past away and accept that she was beginning to like him.

They arrived on the outskirts of the camp, and Charlie motioned for Bass to follow her. She rounded the perimeter, tracking the precise patrols that never changed, knowing exactly where she needed to be so no one would see her. After a few minutes, they slipped under the fence and Charlie led Bass into a smaller tent at the edge of the cluster.

"What's this?" Bass asked once they'd stepped inside.

Charlie paused to light a couple of lanterns and then turned to look at him.

"This is where I've slept the past couple of days, when I've managed to find the time. You should be safe to wait here while I go and grab those bandages for you."

Bass took a step closer to her. "Now hang on a minute, that wasn't the plan. Just tell me where the supply tent is—"

"So you can get caught and give the Patriots a second shot at executing you? You can't play happy families with Connor if you're dead. I'm in and out of that supply tent a dozen times a day, no one will look twice at me. Just stay here, and I'll be back in a minute."

He shot her a look that told her he didn't like it, but he moved to sit on the cot she'd been sleeping on. "Fine, but if you're not back in five minutes, I'll come looking."

She shook her head at his stupid stubbornness, before leaving the tent again. The supply tent was on the opposite side of the triage tent. It only took a few moments to walk in, help herself to a pile of pristine white gauze, and walk back out again. She passed several Patriot soldiers, but they were all used to seeing her, and didn't even spare her a glance.

She was walking back into her tent well before the five minutes Bass had given her were up.

"I got extra, so it should last you a few days."

He stood, and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Good, 'cos the bandages Miles put on me a few days ago were questionable at best, and the last thing I want is to get an infection."

She stood there, her gaze following his fingers as they trekked downward, until he'd slipped free the last button. As he shrugged out of the shirt, he made a pained noise, and she snapped her gaze back to his face.

"Here, let me help." She stepped forward and helped pull his shirt off. Almost his entire back was covered in bloodstained bandages, and she swallowed hard at the sight, worse than she'd imagined.

He leaned forward and braced his hands against the table she'd set the gauze down on. With another swallow over the tightness in her throat, she gently started peeling the dressing free. Some of the lesions were starting to scab over, but some were still weeping. His back was a mess, no two ways about it. When it all eventually healed, he'd be left with a crisscrossing of scars all over his back. A new wave of anger toward Connor bubble up within her.

"How could he have done this?" She whispered as she pulled the last bandage free and dropped it at their feet. "I shouldn't have punched him; I should have stabbed him, see how he'd like to be the one bleeding."

Bass glanced over his shoulder at her. "Its okay, Charlie. If I can forgive him, then you have to as well. He's family."

That she didn't agree with, but she swallowed down her arguments and picked up a piece of gauze, wetting it down slightly before gently pressing it against his back. He flinched under her touch, but then his muscles went rigid as he braced himself for the next dab of material.

In the weighted silence, she gradually cleaned him down as best she could, before securing the fresh gauze over his wounds. When she was finished, Bass blew out a long breath, before straightening.

"Thanks, Charlie," he said quietly, as he picked up his shirt. She busied herself tidying up, not letting herself watch him as he stiffly slipped into the shirt and buttoned it back up.

"I better get going; Miles will be having kittens over how long I've taken." He paused in front of her. "Be careful around these Patriot assholes."

"I will, don't worry."

"Its hard not to," He muttered, his words, as well as the intent stare he leveled on her unsettling her heart beat.

He reached out, and before she could work out his intentions, had slipped a hand around her waist and tugged her closer. He enveloped her into a hug, bringing her tight against his chest. For a second she stood there, shocked to her core. Sebastian Monroe was actually hugging her. And it didn't feel anything like the platonic, fatherly hugs that Miles gave her. Something in the way Bass had his arms wrapped around her, in the way he held her against him felt too intimate. But the sensation warmed her in a way no other embrace ever had. With hesitant movements, she slipped her own arms around his waist, being careful not to touch his wounds.

He shifted, and she felt his mouth brush against the outer edge of her ear, sending a shudder cascading down her spine.

"I missed you, Charlotte," he murmured.

She closed her eyes, grabbing in a sharp, uneven breath. But before she could regain her equilibrium, Bass let her go and moved back. By the time she'd opened her eyes, he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the tent.

Charlie shifted back a step and leaned heavily against the table. Holy hell, that had been some hug. She closed her hands over the edge of the table, clenching her fingers against the hard corners while she waited for her heart rate to wind down a notch or two.

Yeah, she'd missed Bass while he'd been gone as well. She'd tried not to think about him, about how when he was around, everything just seemed a little brighter, a little sharper, and the harsh unpredictability of the world a little easier to bear.

She sighed and made herself straighten. She couldn't dwell on this, had to force these feelings away. She wasn't stupid… it was easy to see that where Sebastian Monroe was concerned, her heart was leading her down a dangerous path.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - I hadn't intended to do any more on this story, but I'm starting to have withdrawals waiting for Wednesday and a new episode to come around, plus I was asked so nicely to continue with this, how could I refuse? :D _

_This is mostly fluff, no real plot or point, but sometimes that's the juiciest stuff._

_Happy reading..._

_~x LizAna_

* * *

Charlie braced an elbow against her knee, staring at the dust motes floating in the slant of late afternoon sunshine filtering in around the ragged, discolored curtains. She was sitting on the mattress in the farmhouse they'd brought Monroe to after the not-so-lethal-injection incident.

She frowned as she set her chin in her hand. Huh… she couldn't remember why she'd come here, or when for that matter. But it was nice sitting here, listening to the occasional chirp of birds in the trees outside and the low chatter of insects on the light summer breeze, watching the lazy drift of the curtain in the broken window… it was a rare moment of tranquility she never got to experience anymore. It reminded of the days before she'd left home, when she used to sneak off and sit in the broken carnival rides a little way off from the community. She'd spent hours there, staring at her postcards and dreaming of everything beyond the walls of the estate.

Her heart clenched in her chest, because now those postcards reminded her of the stupidly naïve girl she'd been. Even though she'd ripped them into a million pieces and left them behind, some days it still felt like she was carrying them around, not letting her escape the fact that her father's blood had covered her shaking hands as she'd knelt by his side and watched him die. Or that she'd been powerless to do anything as bullets shot from a helicopter had ripped through Danny's body, shredding his insides as he'd fallen to his knees and then collapsed in a lifeless heap.

She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, forcing a long, slow breath on herself, striving to find the serenity she'd been enjoying a few moments ago. But it was impossible, she couldn't have that kind of peace now, not when she'd touched death so many times. Not when she'd killed so many, she'd lost count and stopped caring somewhere along the way. It was the only way to survive.

But the image of her grandpa staring at her after she'd killed those Patriots driving the wagon of oranges surfaced and wouldn't be dispelled. Since she'd started training with Miles, when they'd been fighting the Monroe Militia, she'd gotten really good at compartmentalizing, not stopping to think too closely about what she was doing, except to find satisfaction in getting stronger, tougher, each encounter she survived molding her into a better version of herself.

The way Grandpa had looked at her, as though he didn't know who she was, as though she'd done something wrong, it had made her stop and think for the first time in a long time, and she hadn't like the hard, cold sensation that had sunk into her chest.

"Don't think so hard, you're going to hurt your brain."

She glanced up at the familiar drawl to see Monroe standing in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, his arms crossed and usual irreverent expression on his face.

"What are you doing here?" She glanced away from him, back to the dust motes she'd been studying before; annoyed that he'd walked in on her moment of negative introspection, even if he didn't realize what he'd done.

"Where else would I be?" he countered, stepping into the room.

Something flickered at the edge of her mind. He should be somewhere else, but for some reason, she couldn't find the answer.

"And I could ask you the same question," he continued, ambling into her line of sight, his left hand braced on the hilt of his sword. He walked to the window and hooked a finger into the edge of the curtain, tugging it aside to glance out the window.

"It'll be dark soon," he commented, before letting the curtain drop back into place. "You should head back."

Charlie pushed a hand through her hair, mental exhaustion dragging at her. She wasn't in the mood for vocal parries with the former president of the Monroe Republic right now.

"I'll go when I'm good and ready."

His lips quirked upward for a moment, and he stepped closer to her, his movements slow, with an almost predatory quality to them. "Something wrong, Charlotte?"

She shot to her feet as s shiver trickled down her spine at the intimate tenor of his voice when he said her name. No one else managed to inflect the word with quite the same amount of suggestion as he did.

"I hate it when you call me that."

He shifted closer, blocking her way to the door. "No, you don't."

"I do." But her insistence was weak at best, since she was having trouble drawing a full breath. "Fine, I'll leave. You can stop messing with me."

She went to sidestep him, but his right hand closed over her hip, stopping her from escaping, leaving her standing next to him, the sides of their bodies not quite touching. He leaned closer to her.

"I'm not messing with you."

She turned her head slightly, but he wasn't looking directly at her, leaving her free to study his profile.

"Then what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice nearly failing her altogether.

He shook his head. "I have no godamn idea."

Well, that was comforting. "Let me go."

"I can't." His hand tightened on her hip, and his voice had taken on a husky edge.

Frustration burst through her, everything colliding all at once— the way her grandpa had looked at her, her own doubts, the way she and her mom were constantly clashing, the never ending fight against the patriots that seemed to grow more complicated every day. And Sebastian Monroe, standing there with his hands on her. The man she should hate, the man she'd failed to kill, the man who'd saved her and changed every single conception she'd had of him. She couldn't work him out, and he frustrated her more than everything else combined. The only time it was easy to deal with him was when they were fighting together, because in that at least, she trusted him without fail.

Her entire body tensed and she shifted so she was looking straight at him.

"Let me go, Monroe."

A muscle tensed in his jaw as he glanced away from her and she thought he was going to concede. Except then his hand clamped tighter and he yanked her around, slamming her into the unyielding muscles of his chest.

His mouth was on her before she could even draw a shocked breath. His other hand came up and fisted in her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her in place so that even if she'd been able to think about escaping, it would have been impossible.

For a second she resisted, because this was Sebastian Monroe, and when she'd told Miles she wouldn't let him touch her, she'd absolutely meant it. She shoved her hands against his shoulders, but he wasn't having any of it and simply locked himself tighter around her. Despite the unforgiving hold he had on her, his lips were almost gentle as he kissed her, and her traitorous body responded, lighting up like a flash bomb had detonated within her. She grabbed a handful of his infuriating curly hair and pushed herself up against him.

He groaned against her mouth, and then deepened the kiss, hitting her with a sensual onslaught now that she'd stopped resisting. His hands were all over her; grabbing her up against him and stroking the lines of her body. Warmth suffused her until she was overheating, but in the wake of the fire, tingles rushed under her skin and nothing had ever felt so good.

He shuffled her backward, and her calves hit the edge of the mattress. Without missing a beat, he picked her up and tipped her back, coming down on top of her as she sunk into the bed. Having him against her when they were both upright was one thing, but the heavy, warm weight of him pressing her down overloaded her senses, until she couldn't think of anything except getting more of him.

She closed her eyes as his mouth slanted away from her lips and started trailing down her neck.

"Charlie," he murmured against her neck, sending a shudder rippling down her spine, leaving another shock of tingles in its wake. "Charlie, wake up."

"What?" The sound of her own voice jarred her, and suddenly, something about this didn't seem right, aside from the obvious insanity in letting Sebastian Monroe kiss her.

"Wake up, Charlie." He repeated, and she forced her eyes open. Confusion fogged her brain, because she wasn't in the farmhouse any longer, and Monroe wasn't on top of her. She blinked, forcing herself to focus on the dim surroundings of the tent she'd been sleeping in for the past couple of days since she'd followed her grandpa into the Patriot camp.

Monroe sat on the edge of her cot, eyes cobalt blue in the shadows cast by the lanterns. He was studying her with an intent stare, and reality rammed her into full consciousness. She'd been dreaming. Of course she'd been dreaming, because _that_ would never happen between her and Monroe, not in a million years.

"You with me now?" Monroe asked with an edge of amusement in his voice.

She sat up in a rush and scooted back from him. "What the hell? Were you _watching me sleep_?"

"Not intentionally. You were totally out of it. A bomb could have exploded in the next tent and you still wouldn't have woken up. Although, I have to admit, maybe I wasn't trying hard enough to bring you around."

She pushed her tangled hair back, feeling totally off balance. "Why not?"

"If you're sleeping that deeply, you're obviously exhausted. And then…" He trailed off and ran a hand over the lower half of his face.

"And then what?"

Her heart picked up pace in her chest as he caught her with that intense stare of his that always managed to unnerve people. "What were you dreaming about, Charlotte?"

He murmured her name, exactly the same way he had in her dream before—

She swallowed, a flush overheating her entire body. Oh god, had she been talking in her sleep, or worse, moaning?

"Nothing, I wasn't dreaming about anything." She pushed up from the bed, needing to escape his close proximity and that unsettling blue gaze. But she couldn't help glancing back at him, and saw in his expression that they both knew she'd just lied through her teeth. "What are you doing here anyway?"

He stood, shifting toward the tent flap, and putting some more distance between them. Charlie breathed a silent sigh of relief as she pulled a long sleeved shirt over her singlet and then shoved her feet into her boots. She wouldn't be going back to sleep, not after that. Part of her was terrified her subconscious would pick up right where she'd left off. And she was already confused enough about where things stood with Sebastian Monroe without her hormones getting involved.

"I've come to break you out of quarantine camp for good. Miles and I have been talking, and there's something I need to do. But it's going to involve a trip that could take a couple of days, and quite frankly, if Miles can't come, you're the only other person I trust to have my back right now."

Another road trip with Sebastian Monroe? Her pulse leaped at the idea, her body betraying her at every turn. But she was still getting over the fallout from the other trip she'd taken with Monroe. The last thing she wanted right now was to go anywhere alone with him.

"Why can't Miles go?"

Monroe stared at her for a long moment with an unreadable expression. "He needs to stay here with Rachel and Gene. Come on, Charlie, you know we make a great team, and Connor could learn a thing or two from you."

A cool spiral of relief flowed through her. "Connor is coming?"

She didn't know how she felt about that, but at least it meant she wouldn't be spending days on end alone with Monroe.

Monroe's mouth twisted up into a short smile. "Where else would he go?"

Back to his substitute drug cartel father, for one thing. But she kept her mouth shut on that subject. "Fine, then what are we waiting for?"

She grabbed her crossbow and pack, shooting him a hard look as she stepped by him to leave the tent. Whatever he thought she'd been dreaming about, whatever he might think had just happened here, he better leave it inside the tent, or she wouldn't be going anywhere with him.

He shot her a knowing smile, as though he could read her mind. Their ability to communicate with a single look kind of freaked her out when she thought about it too closely. But more than anything, she found comfort and a weird sense of confidence in the connection.

"So, where are we going?"

He moved forward, his hand touching her lower back for a brief moment as he guided her out of the tent. "Back into the Plains Nation."

So they were going to retrace the journey where everything had started changing for them? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"What's so important up there?"

He shot her an unreadable look. "You'll see when we get there."

* * *

_A/N - Psyche! Haha, you really thought I actually got them together for a minute there, but I was just messing with you. On a side note, the show could do with a good dream sequence like this :D_

_Not likely, I suppose, but we can live in hope..._

_Until later...  
_

_~x LizAna_


	4. Chapter 4

Bass sat back from the fire as he finally got it burning steadily, and glanced across at his two traveling companions. Connor looked just about done-in, the kid obviously wasn't used to walking for hours and days on end like they had since they'd left Mexico. In some ways, the kid's life with that psychotic drug lord had been too cushy. If Connor was serious about wanting to take back the republic, he'd have to toughen up, because the bad-ass Monroe attitude would only get him so far.

Charlie was making adjustments to her crossbow, and in the evening sun, she looked the same as ever with wind-tousled hair and sun-bronzed skin. She glanced up at him, as though she could tell he was staring, and when her clear gray-blue eyes met his, an arc of sparking electricity cut right through his middle.

He glanced down at the fire, picking up a stick to poke the burning wood in an attempt to keep himself distracted. Staring at her was becoming too easy… an easy distraction from other things he needed to be concentrating on. Like his promises to the kid, for one thing. If Charlie found out everything he'd said to Connor, what he'd had to say to convince his son to come back with them, he had absolutely no doubt she'd take her knife and quite happily gut him with it. Or, if he didn't happen to be standing that close, take him out with one of her arrows. They might have developed… _something_ — he wasn't exactly sure what, since he'd never clicked with or fought as seamlessly with anyone besides Miles — but the connection was new and still tenuous. He imagined that at this point, it wouldn't take much for her to go back to hating him. And worse, she would probably end up hurt, see it as a betrayal of trust. And for whatever reason, the idea of hurting Charlie burned deep in his chest. That was why, whatever the cost, he had to keep it a secret until he'd lined up all his players and was in a stronger position.

Charlie stood up, and he glanced back over at her.

"I'm going hunting before it gets any darker."

He sent her a nod, and turned his attention to Connor, who was watching Charlie walk off.

"You're just going to let her wander off all on her own?" Connor looked at him, his expression landing somewhere between exasperated and incredulous. "What happens if she gets into trouble?"

"Charlie can take care of herself."

There were very few situations where Charlie couldn't handle herself. And he'd been there for some of them. She wouldn't go far, and if trouble did happen to find her, he'd be there again.

Connor shook his head, staring at the spot where Charlie had disappeared. Though they hadn't talked much since leaving Willoughby that morning, Bass had caught Connor doing that more than a few times over the day — staring at Charlie as though he was trying to work something out. Couldn't blame the kid, Bass had spent a whole lot of time doing the same thing after the incident with the bounty hunters, when they'd first traveled back to Willoughby together.

They sat in silence as the sun finish dropping behind the horizon, while Bass got the fire burning hotter to cook whatever meat Charlie came back with. She returned as the sky turned lavender, carrying two rabbits. They were a bit on the small side, but would be better than nothing, or the rations of dry bread and jerky they'd packed in their bags.

Bass got his knife out as Charlie dropped the small animals in front of him. They took one each, efficiently cleaning them, and then setting the meat above the fire. All the while, Connor watched them with a slightly distasteful expression on his face.

"Never caught and cleaned your own dinner before?" Bass asked as he moved off to the side of the camp to wash the blood off his hands.

"Never had to," Connor returned.

"Well, that would explain why you almost starved to death after your aunt and uncle died."

Connor shot him a pissed off glare. "Hey, screw you—"

"With something pointy, yeah, I heard it before. You want to make it as a Monroe, then this is the stuff you need to learn."

"How to kill defenseless animals? Yeah, that's really bad-ass."

Bass returned to the edge of the fire, clenching his fist to resist the urge to smack his kid upside the head. Charlie was smirking as she glanced between the two of them.

"No, you moron. I mean how to survive, under any conditions. Better yet, how to thrive. In the days after the black out, that's what separated the strong from the weak."

Connor rolled his eyes. "Just what I need, a history lesson."

Bass shook his head. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"I wonder where he gets that from," Charlie murmured.

He shot her a quelling look. "You're not helping."

She shrugged one shoulder. "Wasn't trying to."

Connor shifted, laying down and then shoving his pack around to use as a pillow. "As interesting as this _isn't_, its been a long day, so how about we save the survival lecture for another time?"

Bass glanced down at the cooking meat. Part of him wanted to push Connor, because the faster the kid learned this stuff, the better off he'd be. But there was no point tonight, when he was tired and still adjusting to the new family situation.

The three of them made small talk while they waited for their dinner to cook, and then split the rabbits between them. It seemed Connor couldn't help but inject sarcastic little quips, no matter what the conversation was about. A few times, he even got a laugh out of Charlie, something Bass had very rarely seen himself.

Once they were done with eating, he banked the fire until there were only a few glowing coals, and then grabbed the bedrolls. He chucked one at Connor, who caught it against his chest, and then handed one to Charlie.

"I think we should be safe enough without a watch, there isn't really anyone around for miles, and I'm a light sleeper." He moved around the fire and flicked his bedroll out. "Charlie, you're in the middle."

She sent him a hard look. "Thanks, but I don't need a Monroe on either side of me, I'll be fine over here."

He returned her stubborn glare. "I said we _should _be safe enough, I didn't say we could be stupid and disregard any kind of safety measures."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Well, by that logic, Connor should go in the middle, he's the least experienced."

"Hey—!" Connor sent her a dirty look.

Charlie shot him a not-so-apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Mr. Drug-Lord-Wannabe, but it's true."

"You might be all bad-ass with your crossbow, but it's not going to stand up against my gun now, is it?"

"Actually," Bass interrupted before they could get into a full-blown argument. "Charlie, I'm sorry, but you are the more vulnerable target. All your shiny blonde hair and—" He waved a hand, gesturing up and down her body, but not about to put his thoughts into words. "All of _that_. Some guys wander past, haven't seen a decent woman in a while, what do you think is going to happen? It'd be smarter not to leave any kind of temptation out in the open."

Charlie cast an unimpressed glance between them, but he could see her mind working behind her expressive gaze, and could tell the moment she knew he was right and would have to concede.

"Fine. But just so you both know, I sleep with my knife, so if either of you touch me, you can expect to loose the nearest appendage."

Connor shot him a worried look, but Bass had to force himself not to grin.

He waited for Charlie to set up her bedroll and lay down next to Connor, before setting himself up on her opposite side. As he laid down, he suppressed a grimace at the stinging ache in his back. Son of a bitch, how long would that keep hurting for? He could feel the bandages Charlie had put on for him pulling at the wounds, no doubt stuck to his wounds in some places. He'd have to get someone to change the dressing tomorrow. And since he couldn't imagine his son would be all that gentle about it, hopefully Charlie wouldn't mind doing it again.

The pain in his back throbbed hotter and he shifted. The other two had settled down and were sleeping, judging by the sound of their even breathing, but with the way his back was caining him, he wouldn't be getting any decent sleep any time soon.

With a small groan, he rolled to his side facing Charlie, keeping his back outward in case she kicked in her sleep or something. Without the pressure on his back, the pain eased to a dull ache, and he started dozing.

Charlie shifted, and he roused, finding at some point she'd shuffled over, and now her back was lightly brushing his chest. He held his breath, sure she'd wake up and threaten him with bodily harm, but she simply murmured in her sleep and settled against him.

He breathed out a long sigh, and let himself relax around her. He shouldn't be letting this happen, Charlie wouldn't be impressed if she woke up to find them spooning. He'd move in a little while, but right now, he was as comfortable as he was going to get, so he might as well grab what little sleep he could.

* * *

_A/N - sorry,this chapter was probably a little on the boring side... but i was seriously uninspired by the lack of Charloe action on this week's episode :(_

_Also, I'm starting to get worried about the writers matching up Charlie and Connor... even though I have to say that Connor is just a little bit awesome. Anyway, guess I'll have to wait to see what comes out of next week's episode when Bass, Charlie and Connor go on their little roadtrip. In the meantime, I'll try to come up with something more interesting to write._

_~x LizAna_


	5. Chapter 5

The click of a gun being cocked woke Charlie, the sound pounding like thunder in the silence of dawn. She opened her eyes, but the pistol wasn't pointed at her, it was hovering just above Monroe's temple.

He was still asleep, turned on his side toward her, with an arm draped across her middle. Connor was also out of it on her other side, and a second man stood over him, but only held a sword. A quick glance around revealed three other men standing just beyond where they were sleeping next to the dead fire. The guy with the gun sliced a look at her, sending her a chilling smile when his eyes met hers. Her heart tripped over itself and then took up a furious pounding against her ribs.

"Good, you're awake. Get up quietly, or I'll shoot your boyfriend here."

She shifted to sit up, and Monroe roused, rolling onto his back. So much for him being a light sleeper. He groaned a little and then dragged a hand over his face before opening his eyes.

"What time is—" He titled his head back and saw the gun. With a quick movement, he rolled and came up in a crouch, but before he could stand, the gunman shifted to point the pistol at her.

"Stay down, or I shoot the girl."

Connor finally woke up, for a moment looking confused, but then focusing a glare on the man standing above him with the sword.

Monroe stared at the man with the gun, a hard glint in his blue gaze. "What do you want?"

"The girl and all your weapons."

"You're not touching our weapons, and you're definitely not taking the girl," Monroe replied, his tone even, but edge in steel.

The man with the gun grinned, though the expression was far from amused. "You think this is a negotiation? You don't get a say. In case you haven't noticed, there's five of us and only two of you."

Monroe shot her a quick glance and she got his message. They didn't think she was a threat, so whatever he was planning, she had to be ready to act.

The man with the gun walked forward and grabbed her elbow, pulling her to her feet. "Come on, sweetheart, if you cooperate, I'll treat you nice, but if you don't…"

He trailed off and sent her a hard look. Yeah, she didn't need to hear the end of that threat, she got it loud and clear. She looked back over her shoulder as the guy with the gun tugged her closer.

Monroe slowly pushed to his feet, not taking his eyes off her and the man holding her. "You don't want to do that. Let her go, and I'll let you walk away."

The man with the gun laughed. "You're one cocky son of a bitch." He glanced at two of his companion. "Strip them of all their weapons."

Charlie watched as the four men closed in on Monroe and Connor, but then the man with the gun yanked her again, almost sending her stumbling. He hurried her along, dragging her a little away from the camp. Apprehension tightened her chest until she could hardly breathe. Whatever Monroe was probably planning, she couldn't wait for him, she had to get away from this scum bastard right now.

She twisted her arm, but before she could jerk free, he swung around and shoved the gun against her neck. "I told you to play nice, missy, but I can be rough if that's the way you want this to go down."

Keeping the gun against her neck, he shoved her up against a tree. She dropped her hand, going for her knife, but the man caught her wrist, keeping her pinned in place with the weight of his body.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, or I blow your pretty head off."

He yanked her knife out of its sheath and then tossed it away, before running his hand over her body.

"No other surprises for me?" He asked with a leer as he took his time patting around her thighs and butt. She tensed up, and resisted the urge to punch him in the face. With that gun against her neck, she had no option but to stand there. Monroe would be here, him and Connor would take out those other guys and then they'd come for her.

The man smiled at her, the expression cold and smarmy. "Now we've got all that unpleasantness out of the way, you're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"

His hand slid upward, underneath her top, skimming her skin. She shuddered, cold radiating through her veins, and she swallowed as her stomach started churning. Monroe, he'd be here, but she couldn't just stand here and let this happen. She started to drop her hands, but the man pinched her, hard enough to bruise and then shoved the gun deeper into her neck.

"No moving," he snapped.

She froze again, mind going blank. She didn't want to die. Not here, not like this. _Where is Monroe?_

"That's it, see how nice this is?" The man drawled. He slid his hand out of her clothes and dropped it between them. She heard the clinking of his belt buckle, and fear surged up, bitter against the back of her tight throat. _No, no, no_. This wasn't going to happen.

A figure loomed up behind the man, and an arm wrapped around the his neck, dragging him backward. Charlie dropped, pulling away from the gun. It went off, splintering bark and wood chips off the tree.

Monroe reached up and slashed a knife across the man's neck, before shoving him away. He stepped over the body and crouched down to where she'd curled up against the bottom of the tree to avoid getting shot.

"Charlie, are you okay?"

She looked up at him, not quite able to draw in a full breath, let alone answer. Her stomach churned tighter, and she scrambled away from him as she started gagging.

Monroe swore under his breath, and then she felt his hands sliding along the back of her neck, grabbing up her hair. She stayed hunched over, not bringing anything up because it'd been hours since she'd last eaten, but she couldn't stop retching.

"Connor, go get her some water." Monroe murmured, and this time, the sound of his voice helped anchor her.

Charlie gulped in a breath, and then another, as Monroe rubbed gentle circles on her back. She sat back, forcing herself to breathe evenly, pushing down the roiling in her stomach by sheer will alone. Monroe dropped her hair, but curled an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, letting him take her weight and all of her problems for just a moment.

Connor appeared with the water and silently handed it over, before crouching down in front of her, a concerned gleam in his dark eyes.

She dropped her gaze from him, and took a long drink of water.

Monroe's hold on her tightened. "I'm sorry, Charlie, we came after you as quickly as we could, but at least two of those guys had to be ex-military, they were better trained than I expected them to be."

She nodded, swallowing over her tight throat. "I'm okay."

Wow, that sounded weak, and kind of dumb when she quite clearly wasn't okay. But she would be, that could have ended a whole lot worse.

"Can you walk?"

She glanced up at Monroe, his face so close to hers, she could see the slight variations of color in his denim blue eyes. Violence burned in his gaze, barley banked. She got the feeling that if he could kill that guy all over again, he would have quite happily.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he murmured.

She nodded and let him help her up. He held out her knife, and she took it, quickly sliding it back into the sheath and immediately feeling calmer. As they walked away, she glanced down at the body, focusing on the man's dull, dead eyes. It helped chase away the last of her linger fear, because the guy had got what he deserved.

Monroe had come for her, killed for her, just like he always did.

* * *

_A/N - Whoa, sorry, that got a bit dark there for a moment! I found this chapter a little hard to write, because character wise I know that Charlie will always save herself where possible, and when she can't, us Charloe fans know that Bass will always be there. But yeah, it was a fine line to get her into a situation where she couldn't fight back, and things were looking really bad until Bass turned up. I hope it works okay!_

_~x LizAna_


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie glanced up at the gray sky, as fine droplets of rain started falling, dusting everything with tiny beads of water, like a heavy mist. She leaned against the rough-hewn fence post and stared out across the field. In the background, she could hear Monroe's voice as he tried to barter with a farmer for some horses.

"Hey." Connor came up on her right side and braced a hand against a railing, half-turning to face her. "How are you holding up?"

She frowned at him. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

And the last thing she needed was Connor's sympathy or pity.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because we nearly got our asses handed to us this morning?"

She glanced at him, before turning to lean her back against the fence. "It wasn't that bad, I've been in worse situations."

Connor sent her an incredulous look. "Seriously? I'm really starting to wonder what the hell I signed up for."

"War," she muttered, crossing her arms. She'd been reminding herself of the same thing all morning. It was true, she'd been in worse situations than the one she'd found herself this morning. But no matter how many times she told herself she was fine, she couldn't quite push down the sensation of that man pinning her up against the tree as his hands had slithered over her bare skin, or the sound as he'd undone his belt buckle. And every time it brought a new chill to her bones and made her stomach tighten.

Monroe walked over, an annoyed expression on his face. Focusing on him helped her forget, so she'd pretty much spent the day starting at him, replaying the moment he'd appeared and sliced her attacker's neck open. A few times he'd caught her eye, and the steady, intent way he returned her gaze always managed to warm her.

"So, did we get some horses, or not?" Connor asked as Monroe stopped in front of them.

"Yeah, but I could only wrangle two out of the old bastard. He drove a hard bargain."

"I don't even see why we're negotiating. Why didn't we just take the damn animals?" Connor crossed his arm, aiming an aggravated glare at Monroe.

Monroe turned an impatient look on his son. "Because, we might be a lot of things, but we don't steal from those who don't deserve it."

"What are you, Robin Hood now?" Connor shot back.

"No, I'm Sebastian Monroe, and the less attention I draw to that, the better for the time being."

The farmer approached with the horses, stopping Connor from making any other remarks. Good thing, because Charlie got the feeling Monroe was only one more idiotic word away from slapping his kid into the dust. Connor had the Monroe attitude, but he didn't have Bass' life experience, which seemed to make him more impulsive.

Monroe paid him, and the farmer thanked him with a nod, before walking off again.

"So, who wants to double up?" Monroe asked as he led the two chestnuts forward.

Charlie stepped forward and took the reins for the horse on the left. "You and Connor can ride together, give you some quality father and son time."

Monroe gave a short laugh. "Yeah, that's funny."

"I'm not getting on a horse with him." Connor walked over and was up on the horse Monroe was holding before either of them could reply.

"What I should have said was, who do you prefer to ride with, Charlie?" Monroe took the reins back from her, and she could see something going on behind his calculating blue gaze. Did she want her to pick him? Or was this some kind of General Sebastian Monroe test where her decision would tell him something about her she couldn't even begin to imagine? The man was too cunning for his own good.

She backed up a step, and then another, and before Monroe could work out her intentions, swung herself up on the horse. She grabbed hold of the saddle when the chestnut shifted under her weight, since Monroe still held the reins.

"I think the question is, who do you prefer to ride with, Monroe?"

Connor laughed, but she didn't take her eyes of Monroe, who was staring at her with an expression she'd almost describe as admiring, as though she'd surprised him.

"There's really no choice, is there, Charlotte?"

She shivered at the way he murmured her name, reminding her of that dream she'd had right before they'd left on this little adventure.

Monroe adjusted the horse's reins, over the animal's neck, before swinging himself up behind her. His thighs settled on either side of hers, while his chest came to rest against her back. He reached around her to take the reins, but she shot him a glare over her shoulder.

"I don't think so. I got on first, I'm driving."

He stared at her for a long moment, his face so close to hers, she felt the warmth of his breath brush over her cheek. Then he shrugged, his lips lifting in a half-smile.

"Whatever you say." His hands landed on her waist, his rough fingers finding the strip of bare skin between her tank top and pants, making her nearly jump off the horse. The animal skittered a little, and she tightened her hold on the reins.

"Let's go," he said, as though it was perfectly normal for him to have his hands all over her.

She urged the horse into motion, and tried to ignore the way the animal's rhythmic gait kept her and Monroe slightly shifting against one another.

"You still haven't told me where we're going, exactly." She needed to make conversation to distract herself from their intimate position.

For a long moment, he didn't answer, and she glanced back over her shoulder at him, but he wasn't looking at her, he had his attention focused along the road.

"New Vegas," he finally replied.

Okay, she wasn't that surprised, but still, there was something weird about taking this journey again.

"Why are we heading back there?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "There's something I need to get."

Because that wasn't vague at all. But it seemed to be the only answer she was going to get out of him. At least with the horses, they'd get there quicker. Although, since it apparently required Sebastian Monroe to be plastered up against her like no one's business, she couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.


	7. Chapter 7

"We should think about stopping soon." Bass squeezed his left hand on Charlie's hip.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Why? It's only the middle of the afternoon."

Bass glanced along the road. It was easier than looking into her eyes at such close range. Bad enough that he'd spent hours on end with the girl all but nestled in his lap. He was just a man, he'd have to be dead not to be affected by the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, or the way the gait of the horse kept her rocking against him.

About five seconds after he'd climbed on behind her, he'd realized exactly how torturous this ride was going to be, and cursed himself for not dinking with Connor. But then he'd imagined himself in the same position with his son and realized that unless it had been a life or death situation that required two grown men to get up close and personal on a horse, it would have been way too awkward. So, his initial statement that there hadn't been a choice remained true. Still, it'd been a fight to keep his thoughts above his pants all day.

"We're not that far out from New Vegas, now. And when we go in, I'd rather do it when it's dark," he replied after a long moment.

Her lips lifted in a half-smile. "Trying to avoid some people, Monroe? Why am I not surprised?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Hey, you saw the kind of people in that shanty town; can you blame me for wanting to keep a low profile when I go back?"

Her smile dipped into a frown. "You still haven't told me exactly what we're here to get."

"Think about it, Charlie. I got kidnapped by bounty hunters. Do you think they stopped to grab any of my crap when they hauled my unconscious ass out of town?"

Her expression turned incredulous. "We came all this way just so you could what, grab a pack with your spare swords and shirts?"

Frustration tore at him, more from the after affects of the morning's fight and the long day on the horse, than her words. But still, after everything they'd been through together, sometimes it seemed he expected more understanding from her than he got.

"It's not that simple. I've got some valuable stuff stashed that I need to get back. You really think I'd bring you back here if it wasn't important?"

She stared at him for a long moment, and he could all but see her mind working behind her gaze. Most people he could read, but Charlie had always been a mystery to him. Like earlier today with the horses, she never did what he expected, and it was one of the things that drew him to her.

"Why didn't you just say so from the beginning? You know you can always lay it out straight to me. I'm under no illusion about who you are, Monroe."

Guilt chaffed him in a way he hadn't felt in a long time, and he glanced away from her, to where Connor was riding just ahead of them. His chest tightened with the urge to tell her what he'd promised Connor in order to get him to leave Mexico.

Charlie thought she knew who he was, but she'd only ever met the edge-of-sanity General, and then the man driven to find what little family he had left in this world through his son. She didn't know him the way Miles did, yet he knew that if either of them found out about his plans with Connor, they wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in him. At least if Miles was the one to shoot him, it might not be a kill shot. Maybe.

He shook his head and clenched his jaw. Charlie wouldn't understand, no matter how much he might want her to.

"So, let's find somewhere to lay low until the sun goes down," he said, before getting Connor's attention and filling him in.

A little farther along the road, they found an old shed where three of the walls had fallen away, leaving only one side and the roof in tact. They secured the horses in the shade around the back, and then found a spot for themselves to settle down.

As Bass leaned back against a post and pulled a flask out, Connor walked past him with a muttered "nature calls." He sent his son a nod and then took a swig from the flask.

Charlie was crouched across from him, rummaging through her pack. She pulled out some clothes and then shot him a quick sideways glance.

"I'll be back in a minute."

He nodded again, and took another drink from his flask, watching as she disappeared around the end of the single wall.

For a long moment, silence pressed in on him, apart from the nickering of the horses on the other side of the wall, and slight creaks of the old structure above him. His stomach rumbled, so he took one last drink before slipping his flask away and standing. From memory, he had some jerky stuffed in the bottom of his pack somewhere, but of course he'd left it out on the horse. A few bites of that should tide him over until one of them could go hunting for some dinner.

Bass rounded the end of the wall, gaze landing on where his pack was still secured to the back of the horse. He'd walked half way along the wall when something shifted in his peripheral vision, catching his attention. He turned his head and then all but stumbled to a stop.

Charlie stood between the wall and a tree, her back to him... and naked from the waist up.

_Oh, hell no_. This was not what he needed after spending the day plastered up against her on that damned horse. Plus, if she knew he'd seen her, she'd take her knife to his eyes. And maybe certain other appendages he was quite attached to. He meant to move, really he did, but as he watched, she bent down and picked something up from the pile of clothes — a bra… clean, would be his guess. And then she did that sexy shrug thing women did to get into their lingerie, sending strands of her hair sliding over her shoulders.

She bent over to retrieve another item of clothing, stretching her already tight pants over her ass, and a pure, unadulterated bolt of lust cut right through the middle of him. He sucked in a sharp breath, unable to remember the last time he'd almost literally been struck dumb for the simple wanting of a woman.

He took an uneven step back, but his foot swiped a pile of discarded fencing materials, and the resulting clutter had Charlie spinning around to face him, her arms already in the tank top, but not covering anything.

"Monroe! What the hell?" She ducked into the tank top and then stooped to snatch up her shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were out here getting changed." He held up his hands and backed up another step, averting his eyes, though why he did that when she'd already covered up was a total mystery.

"What did you think I came out here to do when I took those clothes with me?"

He risked a glance back at her to see she was bending to pick up the clothes she'd discarded, wading them into a ball with angry movements.

"I wasn't thinking—"

She stomped up to him, murder in her gaze as she stared at him. "You ever, _ever_ mention this, and it'll be the last thing you ever say, got it?"

Stupidly, he wanted to laugh, but he swallowed down the tightening in his chest and nodded, trying to keep a serious expression on his face. "Got it, this never happened."

For a long moment, she stared at him, and the longer she did, the harder it got to keep the grin off his face.

"You're a son of a bitch." She muttered, giving him a hard shoulder bump as she stalked by.

He dragged a hand over the lower half of his face, trying in vain to wipe the smirk away, because if he hadn't been mistaken, he'd seen the slightest tinge of color on her cheeks as she brushed by him. It would be easy to think the blush had been from the embarrassment of being caught half undressed, but for some reason, he got the feeling her indignant anger had been covering a little bit more than that.

Bass shook his head and took a long, slow breath, forcing away the picture she'd made standing there and the inevitable lust. What had he come out here for again? Damned if he could remember. He grabbed his flask out and shook it. Half empty, but maybe it'd go some ways to restoring the balance between them.

He turned and headed back along the wall after Charlie, hoping he could stick with his promise of pretending like that had never happened… even if some parts of him weren't all that impressed with the idea.


	8. Chapter 8

Charlie kept her attention divided between where Connor stood with a blonde on either side of him at the other end of the bar, to where Monroe stood by a poker table, talking with a guy who apparently owed him a handful of diamonds.

At this point, it was easier to watch Connor charm the girls who were already practically drooling over him, rather than looking at Monroe. But unfortunately her stupid sense of responsibility wouldn't let her forget that she was meant to have Monroe's back; it was why he'd asked her to come along on this trip in the first place. Every time his gaze met hers, she couldn't stop herself from remembering back at the shed when she'd turned around and seen him standing there, staring at her with enough heat in his blue gaze to singe her. She'd wondered how long he'd been standing there, but if the glint in his eyes had been anything to go by, the answer to that question would have been _long enough_. She'd had her back to him, so it wasn't like he'd really seen anything, but there was something too intimate about the knowledge that he's seen so much of her bare skin, and too easily led her thoughts back to that dream she'd had of him back in the quarantine camp before they'd left. A flush started burning up her chest, so she blew out a long breath and forced her thoughts onto safer topics, glancing around the tent at the esteemed patrons of the gaming venue.

New Vegas was much the same as she remembered, the smell of booze mixed with the charming scent of sweat and other things she didn't want to think about too closely. Women in various states of undress paraded around, both out on the street and in the tent they'd ducked into — not the same one she'd found Monroe fighting in all those weeks ago, but close enough that once inside, it was hard to tell the difference.

A man sauntered up to the bar and brushed against her shoulder, gaze blatantly roaming up and down her body. "Hey sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?"

"I'm fine, thanks." She injected a hostile tone into her voice and held up the whiskey she'd been nursing for the past fifteen minutes. She'd brought the drink to keep herself occupied, rather than out of the desire to drink it.

The man turned and leaned one arm against the bar, angling his body toward her. "Come on, now, no need to be like that. I'm just looking for a good time."

"Yeah, well look somewhere else, because you won't find it here." Over the man's shoulder, she saw that Monroe seemed to have completed his business and was navigating the crowd back toward her.

She shifted back from the man next to her, but he closed the space between them again. "Is this about money? 'Cos I've got a whole pocket full of diamonds—"

She leveled a pissed off glare at him, her hand closing around the handle of her knife. "Seriously?"

The man shot her a lopsided grin and she realized he might not be exactly sober. _Drunk moron_. He reached out to touch her hair, but before he could make contact, Monroe was there and caught the man's wrist.

"Back off, buddy, the lady said no." Monroe shoved him back a step, and the man stumbled into the bar.

The man used the edge of the bar to straighten himself, turning a thwarted glower on Monroe. "This is none of your business, pal, so I think you should be the one to back off."

Monroe stepped between her and the drunk man, getting into the guy's space.

"I won't tell you again, get lost before I put you down."

From the corner of her eye, Charlie saw Connor coming over, stopping just off to her left, and she was glad to have the back up. She grabbed Monroe's shoulder. "It's not worth it, Monroe. He'd just some drunk idiot."

But Monroe didn't pay her any attention as they guy shoved him in the shoulder. "What are you, her pimp? Think I can't pay enough for the skank?"

Monroe laughed, but it was that un-amused one with the lethal edge, and a shiver shot down her spine.

"You did not just say that," Monroe all but growled.

She tightened her hold on Monroe's shoulder, feeling his muscles flex under her hands. Great. So much for him wanting to keep a low profile.

The drunk guy held up his hands, a little unsteadily. "You know what? Fine, I'll step off. The bitch isn't even worth the bag I keep my diamonds in."

The guy cut her a leering glare, so unfortunately for him, he totally missed seeing Monroe move. He hauled back and punched the guy, catching him in the upper jaw and putting him down with one blow.

Monroe bent down and grabbed the semi-conscious guy by the collar, but before he could lay into him, Charlie leaped forward and wrapped both hands around his clenched fist.

He raised his furious blue eyes to meet hers, and she glared back at him. "That's enough."

She felt his hand unclench beneath hers as he dropped the groaning man to the floor and straightened.

"What the hell was that?" She tightened her hold on his hand to stop him escaping. Something was going on with him; she could see it in the shadows of his burning gaze.

A muscle flexed in his cheek as he clenched his jaw and he glanced away from her — his way of telling her he wasn't going to answer she guessed. He tugged his hand free and turned away from her, which only pissed her off more. Except he'd hardly taken a step when a group of thugs closed in around them.

One stepped forward, and she remembered seeing him always hovering in the background the last time she'd been here.

"Jimmy," the man said, spreading his hands wide in greeting to Monroe, before clasping them together, flashing the numerous chunky rings on his fingers. He was obviously some kind of boss. "You've got some nerve showing your face here after the way you cut out on me."

Monroe tensed, his gaze sweeping over the pack of muscle surrounding them.

"Yeah, actually there's a really good story behind that." Monroe eased back a step, putting himself partly in front of her.

The boss made a quick gesture and the thugs fanned out to surround them.

"You know what, Jimmy? I don't really care why you left, all I care about it the contract you signed, and all the money you owe me for nights you should have been in the ring. So how about you head on over to the fight tent and we'll start forgetting you were ever gone?"

Monroe shook his head. "Sorry, but no can do. I've got places to be."

One of the thugs standing nearby grabbed Charlie's arm in a bruising grip, and a quick glance to her left revealed Connor getting the same treatment.

"I'll make this simple. You agree, and I'll even be generous; you just have to win every match I put you in tonight, and I'll consider our contract finished." The boss motioned to them. "If you don't go back in the ring, or I'll throw the boy in there instead, and put the girl to work. She's a bit on the butch side, but I'll give her some whips and chains, I've got clients that go for that sort of thing."

Monroe glanced over his shoulder at her, and she couldn't see anything but murder in his gaze. One way of another, it was going to end bloody for the man standing in front of them.

"Fine, I'll go back into the ring for tonight only. And then it's over."

The boss clapped his hands together with a broad grin. "Then we have ourselves an agreement."

Charlie yanked herself from the thug's grip, shooting him a glare as he moved away from her to follow his boss through the tent. Why did she get the feeling this wasn't going to end well?


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N - I wanted to get this chapter up before tonight's__ episode, but I've cut it pretty close. I know most of you will probably read it after. It'll be interesting to see what actually happens when Connor, Charlie, and Monroe go to New Vegas._**  
**

_Also wanted to say thanks for all the great reviews I've been getting. It really is very humbling when people say this is their favorite Revolution/Charloe fic, or that they love how I'm keeping it so realistic. And it definitely makes writing a whole lot easier when I know people are waiting to see what will happen next! You guys are all so awesome! _

_So, thanks... and happy watching tonight. We better enjoy it while we can, because after tonight, they'll be going on hiatus for the Olympics (booooo! :*( _

_The next few weeks are going to be loooong ones without a Charloe fix. Guess I'll have to come up with some more scenes to write._

_:)_

_~x LizAna_

* * *

Charlie followed Monroe into the fight tent… not that she had much a choice in the matter. A thug stayed a step behind her and Connor the whole way over, and she got the feeling that if either of them tried to run, they'd be taken down before they'd get much more than two steps away.

A fight was in progress when they walked in, much the same way it had been the night she'd come here and found Monroe in the ring. She went along with their little group to the far side of the tent, where other competitors were waiting for their turn in the ring. At this point, the thugs backed off, and the boss went to stand off to the side.

She turned to Monroe, who was shrugging out of his jacket.

"Why the hell are you doing this? What happened to keeping a low profile? I thought we were here to get your stuff and get out."

"That guy over there?" He nodded toward the boss and then handed his jacket off to Connor, before starting to unbutton his shirt. "He pretty much runs this town. When we eventually go up against the Patriots, we're going to need all the allies we can get, even the two-bit thugs. So if I've got to win a few fights to keep in his good books, then so be it."

She sighed as he handed his shirt off to Connor and then turned away from them, rolling his shoulders as he stepped closer to the edge of the crowd.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered.

"I don't disagree," Connor murmured in return, shifting closer to her as the crowd pressed in.

The fight finished, and people cheered, before the boss waved Monroe forward. He walked into the middle of the ring, as the next match was announced. The guy who'd won the previous battle faced Monroe across the short space, looking way too confident in himself. Monroe's expression was calm and almost blank. The fight began and the competitor charged, obviously underestimating Monroe.

In about two seconds flat, Monroe had him down and bleeding on the floor. The crowd roared, and another competitor was pushed forward, while someone dragged the unconscious guy away.

The next few fights went down in much the same way. Some of the fighters lasted longer than others, and a few got in some hard hits, sending Monroe stumbling, but he always got back up, and he kept winning.

"Wow, he's really good," Connor commented as another man was dragged unconscious from the ring. "Obviously his reputation wasn't exaggerated."

She crossed her arms. Fighting for survival was one thing, but she hated this spectacle, especially since it reminded her of Monroe's easy brutality, and all the things he'd done in the past, things he was more than capable of doing again.

Connor shook his head. "How many more guys are they going to throw at him? Seems to me he's pretty much unbeatable."

That bad feeling she'd had earlier returned, and got stronger. There had to be something else to this, that thug-boss wouldn't be happy with Monroe winning so easily and walking away.

A hush fell over the crowd, and then people started moving back. Charlie stood on the tips of her toes to see across the room, but she might as well not bothered. The man walking to the middle of the tent stood at least a head taller than Monroe, and was built like a tree — thick-set and wide with muscle. _Holy hell_. How was Monroe supposed to take that guy down?

For the first time, Monroe looked a little unsure as he sized the guy up. Before the announcer could start the fight, the mammoth guy took a swing, catching Monroe in the face and sending him stumbling back a step. The crowd cheered, and as Monroe came up, determination was etched into his features. However, before he could get within striking distance, the giant reached and out and smacked Monroe down again.

This time when Monroe came up, blood was trickling from a cut on his lip.

Oh, this wasn't good. She glanced at Connor, who was watching with a grim expression on his face.

Monroe took another hit, and now blood was dripping from above his eyebrow. However, when he got his footing again, he managed to keep out of the mammoth's reach. For a few minutes they danced around, the giant trying to get Monroe every now and then. Because of his size, the big guy moved a lot slower than Monroe, and she could see that was going to be his only advantage.

Moving quickly, ducking in and out, Monroe got in a few solid hits, starting to even the match up. Finally, while the giant was distracted by a jab he'd taken to the side, Monroe came down on him, putting his entire body weight behind a punch to the head.

The mammoth went down… and then stayed there. The crowd roared, some of them surging forward to pat Monroe on the back.

Charlie glanced across the tent at the thug-boss, who was glaring at Monroe. Obviously that hadn't gone down the way the guy had expected. The boss had a short conversation with one of his muscle, and then a couple of the goons started across the tent.

The boss walked forward, holding his hands up and waiting for the crowd to fall silent.

"You've done well, Jimmy," the boss said. "There's just one more fight you need to win, and then you're done."

Charlie heard a scuffle next to her, and turned to see a couple of thugs had grabbed Connor, and were man-handling him toward the ring. The crowd parted, and the thugs gave Connor one final shove, sending him stumbling to a stop in front of Monroe.

"What the hell is this?" Monroe demanded.

The boss shrugged, looking too pleased with himself. "The last fight you have to win before I consider our contract finalized."

Monroe started looking seriously pissed off. "This wasn't part of the deal. The kid's got nothing to do with it."

"The deal was, you win every fight I put you in tonight. And I'm telling you, this is the final one." The boss drew a gun with a slow movement. "Otherwise, I'll blow the kid's head off."

Monroe glanced at Connor with a cold, detached expression, before returning his attention to the boss. "Do it, I don't care. I just put down the biggest, ugliest fighter you had. What's the point of taking on some scrawny kid?"

Connor stared at Monroe, an expression of shock and hurt flashing across his features. But Charlie couldn't believe Monroe's callous attitude toward his son, not after he'd gone to so much trouble in finding Connor and bringing him back from Mexico. Whatever was going on in Monroe's head, he thought he was doing the best for the kid. And in the meantime, Monroe was totally missing the point of all this. The boss wanted Monroe to lose. It was the only way they were going to get out of this unscathed. Yet Monroe's stupid pride wouldn't let him back down. She could only think of one way of ending this ridiculous farce.

She pushed her way through the crowd, and stepped up next to Connor.

"You don't want to fight him, how about you fight me?"

For a long second there was absolute silence, but then the crowd erupted.

The boss nodded, looking like all his Christmases had come at once.

Monroe took a step closer to her. "Charlie, what are you doing?"

She glared at him. "Ending this."

He shook his head, furious gaze burning into her. "I'm not going to fight you, Charlie."

She shrugged. "Then I guess you'll lose."

Charlie swung at him, aiming for his face, and he didn't even try to duck. Of course, she didn't have as much strength as the guys he'd been fighting, but she still managed to put him a little off balance.

"Charlie," he all but growled at her. "Don't do this."

"I'm already doing it." She hit him again, and still, he didn't deflect her blows. He took two more hits, before a frustrated expression crossed his face. He suddenly leaped forward and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to take a step back, but all that did was put her off balance, and then they both went down. He landed half on top of her, his arms still wrapped around her middle.

She couldn't breath. Not because he was too heavy, or she'd gotten hurt on the way down, but because she was not prepared for the feeling of having Monroe all over her. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the ground, before leaning back a little to look at her. And everything seemed to freeze. Monroe went totally still above her, and her heart pounded desperately against the inside of her ribs at the sensation of his muscled body pressed up against her. His gaze flicked down to her lips, and reality abandoned her for a long second, while every cell in her body craved for him to kiss her.

He blew out a ragged breath, and it was like plunging into a bucket of ice. She flushed hot and then cold as she comprehended exactly how insane this all was. With a quick movement, she hooked her ankle under his calf, as she bucked her hips up and then forced them into a roll.

She clambered to her feet, but before Monroe could move, she pressed a foot to his chest.

"Stay down," she snapped at him.

He held his hands out, gesturing his surrender. Some of the crowd started booing, while others cheered.

She stepped back, as the announcer called her the winner. The boss walked forward and clapped his hands together as Monroe climbed to his feet.

"Too bad, Jimmy, I guess you can't win them all."

"Are we done now?" Monroe demanded.

The boss nodded. "Consider our business arrangement finalized."

Connor appeared, holding Monroe's shirt and jacket. He tossed them at his father, and they smacked Monroe in the chest, before falling to the ground. With a very Monroe-like glare at both of them, Connor stalked out of the tent.

Monroe swore under his breath as he bent to pick his clothes up, before shooting her a glower of his own and following after Connor.

_Just great_. She might have gotten them out of a bad situation, but it seemed she'd hurt Monroe's stupid manly pride. God knew how long he was going to hold this against her for. But, whatever. He'd wanted her along on this trip to watch his back, so this was what he got. Besides, Monroe had his own problem to deal with, after hurting Connor like that.

And she got the feeling Connor wouldn't fall for the _it-was-for-your-own-good_ line so easily.


	10. Chapter 10

Bass followed Connor out of the tent, but as he stepped into the street, he couldn't see which way the kid had gone in the shifting crowds of people moving between gaudy entertainments.

He swore under his breath. Should he go looking for Connor, who was pissed with him, and try to explain he hadn't meant what he'd said, or should he go retrieve the things he'd come here for in the first place?

Charlie stopped next to him, and he glanced down at her, a curious tangle of colliding frustrations twisting him up inside when he looked at her. He'd brought her along for the sake of having an extra gun arm, not to stick herself in the middle of his business. Sometimes she really was too much like her mother; thinking she knew what was best and riding roughshod over the situation without giving more than a second's thought to what the consequences might be.

Bass shoved a hand though his hair and started walking away from the fight tent, Charlie falling into step just behind him. He might as well go get his crap, and then once they found Connor, they could see about getting out of this shantytown.

He walked to the far end of the tent-lined street, where the lights weren't quite as bright and there weren't as many people. Here, without the crowds, flashing lights and noise, the place looked like just another dirt-poor community of people living rough to get by. They passed the trailer he'd called home for the few weeks he'd stayed, and then went even farther, where there was no light any longer and what was left of the buildings and trailers weren't maintained.

"Where are we going?" Charlie finally asked.

"To get what we came here for."

She nodded, and glanced back behind them, her hand resting on the handle of her knife. While she watched out for any unwanted company, he counted along a row of skeletal trailers, then took a turn, finding a dilapidated fence, and then turned into what had once been a park. He walked by the rusted swings and stopped next to the collapsed slide. With a flick of his foot, he kicked a section of the slide out of the way and then picked up a short length of metal — probably once a rung on the ladder of the slide — and started digging into the sandy earth. Except it became apparent after a couple of fruitless moments that there was nothing in the dirt to be found.

"What the hell?" he muttered, heart starting to pound in disbelieving anger. He chucked aside the length of metal and started scraping sand away with his hands, but it didn't make any difference. The hole was empty.

Bass surged to his feet, fury scraping his insides raw. "Damn it to hell!"

He kicked at the slide, sending a piece of metal skittering.

Charlie watched him with an unimpressed but totally detached expression.

"Is there a problem?"

"Its not here." He spun to pace away a few steps.

"What's not here?"

He gestured at the empty hole. "After I left the tower, I knew I couldn't go back to Philly, but it didn't matter, I had emergency funds stashed away all over the republic. I went and collected most of them, and put it all in a lockbox, which I buried here. I was also adding my winnings to it every couple of nights. I knew if I was ever going to—" He sent her a sharp glance and clamped his mouth closed. Hell, he'd almost blurted out about reclaiming the republic. "If I was ever going to start over properly, once I found Connor and worked out what I wanted to do, I was going to need those funds. But the lockbox is gone, someone's taken it."

"How much was in it?"

Charlie didn't seem too broken up for him, of course, she could probably care less how much money he had. He closed his eyes for a long moment and then dragged a hand down his face.

"About two thousand diamonds."

She swore. "You buried _two thousand diamonds_ under some slide in New Vegas and you thought they'd be safe?"

He turned to glare at her. "Well, I couldn't exactly take them to the bank, could I?"

She shook her head, her expression telling him she thought he was an idiot.

He glared right back at her. "I've got other stashes, but they're hard to get to and it'd take time we just don't have."

"Why do you need so much money all of a sudden?"

He stared at her for a long moment, debating how much to tell her. Miles hadn't said it needed to be a secret, though.

"The other reason I came back to New Vegas, what I talked to Miles about. There's a warlord called Duncan who likes to frequent the tables. If we could get thirty or fifty of this warlord's men, it'd make a serious difference when we finally come up against the patriots. Miles agreed, but now we're going to have to find a different way to pay them."

"What are you going to do, hit the tables and hope for a lucky streak?" She crossed her arms, still looking extremely unimpressed. Hell, who'd turned up her bitch meter tonight?

"No, I've got something else in mind, but we need Connor. Come on, let's go find him."

She sighed and muttered something under her breath that he didn't quite catch. Was she pissed off with him, or just pissed off in general? Whatever it was, he didn't have time to be dealing with her hissy fit when there were more important matters at hand.

They walked back to the entertainment strip and started a systematic search, looking in every single tent and shack, no matter if it was a bar, a stripper joint, brothel, gambling tent and various other jaded entertainments, but they couldn't find Connor anywhere. When they'd run out of places to search, they decided to head back out of town where they'd left the wagon and pick up the search if Connor hadn't come back by morning.

Except when they reached the wagon, they found Connor reclining in the back, staring up at the stars. His son shot a glare at him, but then turned to Charlie with a smooth smile and patted the wagon next to him. He pulled out a flask and offered it to her.

"I was starting to think you'd gone off to have fun without me."

Charlie eyed him as she sat down and took a quick drink from the flask. "We were looking for you, actually."

Connor took the flask back. "Well, now you've found me, what do you plan on doing?"

Bass rolled his eyes, the kid had the charm turned up to clobbered-over-the-head. Did he really think he had even half a chance with Charlie? She'd been nice enough to him, but it was with an almost condescending edge, as though she thought he wasn't up to scratch.

He pounded a hand on the side of the wagon to get their attention.

"Connor, I know I was harsh back there, but you gotta understand, it was for your own good—"

Connor scoffed. "My own good? Gee, thanks _dad_, what did I ever do before now without your verbal bitch-slaps?"

This time Charlie was the one rolling her eyes. "I'll give you two a minute."

She went to slide out of the wagon, but he caught her wrist. "No, while I'm talking you can listen as well. What the hell was that stunt you pulled back there? I had the situation under control, I didn't need you butting in and doing—"

"What I thought was best?" she shot back. She yanked her wrist out of his hold. "So its all right for you to decide the best course of action for everyone else, but if Connor or I have an opinion on it, we must be wrong?"

He glared at her. "I never said that, but in this case, that's exactly right. I lived here for weeks, I know how things work, and the best way to get what we need."

"Which is what exactly?" Connor demanded.

Bass leveled a serious stare on the kid. He couldn't say it in front of Charlie, especially not in the bad mood she was rocking.

"You know what we're here for, Connor, what we want."

Connor clambered down from the wagon, anger in every line of his body. "Yeah, well I'm really starting to think I haven't been told the whole story, that you're keeping things from me, and any time now, it's all going to come around and slap me in the face."

Before Bass could reply, Connor stalked off, disappearing into the night shadows beyond the wagon.

Bass sighed, resisting the urge to go after the kid, to reassure him, make him understand that everything he did now was for Connor and the sake of gifting him with a birthright.

Charlie hoped off the edge of the wagon, but he grabbed her arm before she could get past him. He needed to work things out with Connor, but there were also a few things he wanted to get straightened out with this girl who drove him crazy at every turn.

"Charlie—"

She jerked out of his hold. "You're a bastard, and an ass. Just in case you forgot, since I stopped trying to kill you a few weeks ago."

She strode away from him, going in the same direction as Connor.

He cursed under his breath once she'd disappeared. What the hell was this, some kind of mutiny? He wouldn't have brought the two of them along if he'd thought they were going to act like brats.

Well, fine, if that's how they wanted to play things, he'd go back into Vegas to talk with Duncan, and let them blow off some steam for an hour or two. But then they needed to get their heads back in the game, because they had some diamonds to steal.

* * *

_A/N - Sorry for the time its taken me to get this chapter done.__ I've been busy, plus I was still REALLY unimpressed with the last episode... :( ... Anyway, this chap is more about moving the story in line with what's happening on the show, since I've said all along that I_ _would be keeping my fic as realistic and close to the TV show as possible. So, that's why I had to make Charlie a bit more pissed off and petulant in this chap than she had been in others. This is going to be the end of this particular story, and I'm going to pick up a new "episode" which will follow on from 2x13, dealing with why Charlie is acting the way she is and the fallout from her and Connor sleeping together. I probably won't be posting as quickly with the next story since I'm busy with other life stuff. But I'm hoping to get a complete story out while the show is on hiatus for the Olympics. _**  
**

_As always, happy reading!_

_~x LizAna_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N - OMG, it took me a whole week to write one chapter! Sorry, people!_

_Okay, so I said I was going to start a new story, but then I decided I couldn't be bothered, and it'd be easier to continue this one. So this now follows on from 2x13, and as I have said before (but will repeat for the new readers :-D ) I'm trying to keep my fanfic as realistic and close to the TV show as possible, so I'm sorry, but I've got to work with the fact that Charlie and Connor slept together. However, my regular readers will know that I am a diehard Charloe fan, so my aim is still to bring you my version of the current storylines, but with a definite Charloe twist. So while I'll be dealing with some fall out from Charlie sleeping with Connor, I'll be trying to bring her back toward Monroe...  
_

_As always, happy reading!_

_~x LizAna_

* * *

**PART II  
**

Bass took a moment to study his work, before adding a few more lines into the dirt, where he'd been drawing a layout of New Vegas, trying to remember routines and the ins and outs of the shantytown from last time he'd been here.

A clanging kept interrupting his concentration, and he glanced across the cage to where Connor sat against the opposite side, tapping a metal cup against the bars at some irregular beat — the same thing he'd been doing for at least an hour now. Frustration tore through Bass, not only for the irritating noise, but every time he looked at the kid now, his mind oh-so-helpfully kept reminding him of finding Connor and Charlie together, not a stitch of clothing between them.

_He had to sleep with Charlotte_. An aching kind of bitterness gnawed at him, and he glanced back down at his map to get his mind back in the game.

"Is that really necessary?" He asked Connor, not bothering to look up at him again.

The tapping paused. "I've been trying to work something out."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Bass added some more lines to his map, though the section he'd been working on didn't look right for some reason.

"There was this song the band used to play back in Mexico, it was one of my favorites. It went something like—" He hummed a bit, and threw in a couple of tentative words.

Bass glanced up at him, the aggravation climbing. The kid was proving to be an annoying cellmate. "AC/DC."

Connor sent him a confused look. "Huh?"

"That song you're butchering, the band was AC/DC and the song is called Highway to Hell. Though, compared to Brian Johnson belting it out, accompanied by electric guitars, I can't imagine the hoe-down-Mexicano version was all that great. And is that really what you've been thinking about for the past hour?"

Connor shrugged and set the cup aside. "What else am I going to think about? I mean, I spent a while wondering what happened to Charlie, and that reminded me about—"

"All right, I get the picture." He shot Connor a glare, not needing the conversation to go _there_. "You didn't think maybe you should be thinking about something productive, like how the hell we're going to get ourselves out of New Vegas alive?"

Connor glanced around the cage. "Well, it's a little hard to do from this side of the bars, isn't it? I kind of assumed Charlie would go get Miles and her crazy mom, and the three of them would bust our asses out."

Bass sighed and glanced down at his map, finally seeing where he'd gone wrong, why it didn't look right, and scrubbed out a section to redraw. Truthfully, he'd come to the same conclusion; that when he and Connor hadn't turned up to the rendezvous, Charlie had high-tailed it back to Willoughby to get Miles. Of course, there was a second option of what might have happened to her, but that involved Charlie being dead, and he couldn't consider that right now.

Even if Miles was on his way, the best thing he and Connor could do in the meantime was work from the inside. He'd been trying to come up with a viable plan, but every option he came up with was either plain crazy, suicidally dangerous, or all of the above.

Light footsteps sounded behind him, and Bass' heart rate accelerated, thinking for half a second that somehow Charlie had found her way to them by herself, but when he twisted around, he saw Duncan walking toward him, stopping on the other side of the bars and dropping into a crouch.

"Got yourself into a bit of a bind, don't you, Monroe?" Her hazel eyes caught the dim light of the lamps as she tilted her head to study him, one hand braced against a bar.

He half-turned to face her, and hooked his arms around his knees. "No more than you, or so I hear."

Surprise flitted across her features, but she quickly masked it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I asked you earlier how deep you were in, and the fact that you wanted thirty diamonds a head for your men told me it was bad. But I never thought you'd reached the end of your run."

She shook her head, anger tightening her features and putting a deadly gleam in her gaze. He knew she could and would follow through on those lethal inclinations, it was part of the reason he liked her.

"It's not like that."

He stared at her for a long moment, but her stubborn expression gave nothing away.

"Isn't it?" He finally asked. "You know, I don't have much to do, sitting here in this cage, except come up with escape plans and listen to the guards gossiping away like little old ladies. You wouldn't believe what I heard."

Now she started looking worried, easing herself back a little.

"See, they were talking about this woman,_ stupid bitch_, is what they called her, who was so far down against the house, that Gould had decided it was time she paid in blood. They were talking about ways to separate her from the men she always kept close by and taking her out, maybe making it look like an accident so a certain war-tribe wouldn't retaliate. You wouldn't happen to know who they were talking about?"

Duncan's expression hardened, and she swore under her breath as she glanced away from him. "Damn, Gould. I told him I just needed a little more time."

"If the next line out of your mouth is something along the lines of _he knows I'm good for the money_, I'm going to loose what little respect I have for you."

Duncan looked back at him, lips pressed into an angry line. "What do you want, Monroe. Because that's where this is leading, right?"

Bass leaned forward, bracing a forearm against the bars. "I want you to help me and the kid escape. Then I want you to bring your entire war-tribe down to Willoughby to help us kick those Patriots all the way back to Git-mo."

"And why would I do that? I might be down on my luck, but you knowing that doesn't really change anything."

"How many different ways do I have to say it? This might not be your fight now, but it will be. You really think the Patriots are going to leave a war-tribe as strong as yours alone? They might give you a choice; join them or get cut down. Or they might not even give you a choice, they might just come by one day and massacre you all."

Her expression didn't change much, but he could tell she didn't like the idea, and that more than likely meant she knew he was right.

"I'm not agreeing to anything, but how exactly do you think you're going to get yourself out of this situation?"

Bass sent her a grin. She might have said she wouldn't agree, but she hadn't flat out refused, either.

"Its simple, Connor is going to kill me. All I need you to do is claim my body."


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N - I can't believe its taken me another week to get this chapter done. Every time I sat down to write it, something else came up. I'd like to say I'll get the next chapter up quicker, but my spare writing time is very limited at the moment. I'd like to get this story out before the next new episode airs, but I'll see how I go.  
_

_Anyway, enjoy and hopefully there will be more soon._

_~x LizAna  
_

* * *

Charlie sighed in relief as she crested the last rise, bringing into sight the rundown barn where her family had been hiding out since leaving Willoughby. Half way down the other side of the gentle slope, she skidded to a halt at the unfamiliar figure emerging from the storm cellar doors. She dropped into a crouch, breath shortening as she waited for the man to turn. And when he did, she almost wished he was some stranger she could justify putting an arrow into.

_Tom Neville_. What the hell was he doing there? But the punches just kept coming, because a second later, Jason appeared, and the two stood talking for a moment.

Charlie blew out a hard breath and glanced down at the grass beneath her fingers, where she had her hands braced against the ground for balance. An uncomfortable, biting sensation was taking hold of her inside. Not guilt, because she'd done nothing to feel guilty over. Except ever since she'd started the solitary journey from New Vegas, after Connor and Monroe had failed to make the rendezvous, the acidic burn in her chest had been slowly, but surely spreading throughout the rest of her.

Maybe sleeping with Connor hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done, but she kept repeating the same thing to herself that she'd told him. They couldn't win this fight against the Patriots. The enemy had superior weapons, stockpiles of ammo, large numbers of troops, and the claim of being the US government, even if it was false. Mention _US government_ to people who were old enough to remember when the lights went out, and it seem to mean something to them. Like all the world's problems were about to be magically solved. She couldn't see any way they'd survive this fight they'd fronted, despite what Miles and Monroe believed. So, yeah, who the hell really cared what she did or why she did it, when a year from now, she most definitely wouldn't be breathing any longer.

Except there'd been a spark of something in Monroe's gaze when he'd looked at her after he'd come across her and Connor. Disappointment, maybe? But surely any feelings he had on the subject had been solely reserved for Connor's actions. Really, Monroe shouldn't get to have an opinion on what either of them did. And at the time she'd ignored the way he'd looked at her. Until the hours of lonely walking, and little else to think about, had forced her to replay the whole scene in her mind. There was a small part of her that didn't like what she'd done. But that was the same idiotic voice that tried to insist there might be some hope for them against the Patriots, the remnant of the naive girl who'd first set out to find Miles and actually believed she could save Danny. And look how that had turned out. So she was getting really good at ignoring that little voice.

For the millionth time, she doubted her decision to rush back here for Miles without sneaking back into New Vegas to see if Monroe and Connor were actually still alive. The risk had seemed too great, if she'd gotten caught herself, then who would have gone for help? Sure, Miles and her mom might have eventually realized something was up when they didn't return to Willoughby, but by then it might have been too late. _It might be too late already_. She swallowed down the tightening in her throat. She wasn't upset about the situation exactly. Well, maybe she was a little bit, but only because she and Monroe had… _something_. As much as she might want to deny it, Monroe got her, a lot like Miles got her. She didn't have to pretend around him, or second guess herself the way her mom and grandpa made her.

And Connor? Well, he seemed like a good guy, but he _definitely_ didn't get her. However, he didn't deserve being slaughtered just because he was Monroe's son and their crazy-ass plan to get the diamonds had gone off the rails.

She returned her attention to the two Neville men standing down near the barn, weighing up her next move. But then Miles moved into her line of sight, walking from somewhere around the far side of the dilapidated structure to join the conversation between Tom and Jason. Well, whatever was going on, it had to be on the level if Miles was in on it. Not that she would ever trust Jason, or especially Tom. Whatever reason they were here, she'd listen and watch, and the first slip up either of them made, she'd take her knife to their throats.

Charlie stood and continued her way toward the barn, her mom appearing, from a strand of trees on her right. Her mom dropped the bucket of water she'd been carrying when she saw her, and rushed over.

"Charlie!"

She accepted an embrace, and saw over her mom's shoulder that they'd gained the attention of the three men standing by the barn. Miles hurried over, while Tom and Jason hung back.

"Charlie, why the hell are you alone, where's Bass and Connor?" Miles stopped in front of her, catching her shoulder under his palm for a quick squeeze — Miles' version of a hug most of the time.

Charlie took a moment to explain everything that had gone wrong in New Vegas, bringing them up to her being her by herself and not knowing if Monroe and his kid were still alive.

"You did the right thing." Miles assured her when she'd finished. "Bass wouldn't have wanted you to put yourself in danger to get him out. Coming for back up was smart."

The hot churn in her stomach increased, despite how calm she was trying to stay. "But I don't even know if they're still alive. In the time it took me to get back here, they could have—"

"Bass is a resourceful son of a bitch; you know that as well as I do, Charlie. He'll find a way to keep himself and Connor safe until we can get there."

"We should leave right away." Tom stepped forward, an intent gaze focused on Miles.

Miles glanced at him, disbelief written all over his face. "I'm sorry, _we_?"

Tom sent him a cold half-grin. "Come on, Miles, don't pretend like you couldn't use the backup."

Miles crossed his arms. "You're a hard guy to keep track of, Tom. One day you're loyal to Bass, the next you want to kill him, and now you want to save him."

Tom's expression hardened. "I'm not going to play games with you, Miles. I'm serving my own interests in this, and right now, those interests would be well served by having Sebastian Monroe alive and in our corner. If that means I have to save the guy from some third-world casino-mogul wannabe, then so be it. That's how you know you can trust me in this; the enemy of my enemy, and all that jazz."

Miles didn't look like he was buying a word Tom said, and Charlie knew the Neville's well enough to second guess every word that came out of the man's mouth.

"Then grab whatever crap you need to hit the road again. Looks like we're going to Vegas."

Tom nodded with a short smile and then gestured to his son. Jason sent her a weighted look, as though he wanted to say something to her, but she glared at him until he turned and followed his father. She didn't need ex-boyfriend drama in the crap-fest that was her life right at the moment.

She sighed as she went after Miles, who was striding toward the one horse they had left. The other two had been hitched to the wagon, and taken to New Vegas.

"Miles, you can't really think it's a good idea to accept Tom Neville's help. You know at some point, some how, he is going to royally screw us over."

"I know that, kid. But until it happens, we might as well use him to our advantage. Don't worry, when he shows his hand, I'll be ready."

Charlie shook her head as she turned toward the barn, planning to swap out the dirty clothes in her pack for some clean ones she had stored in the barn. Evening knowing that Neville was going to turn on them at some point and being ready for it, she didn't like the idea of having him at her back when they went to rescue Monroe and Connor.

On the other hand, right now, she'd probably make a deal with the devil himself to get the two guys out of New Vegas in one piece.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N - I know I used to get chapters out almost every day, and I'm sorry that its slowed to once a week, but I am seriously busy at the moment! Anyway, I wanted to get this chapter out before next week's episode, so at least I got that done. I'm actually not sure what's going to happen after this chapter... I'll have to give it some thought, and work out how much Charloe action I can get into it. I know the last few chapters have been a bit lacking in Charloe. Sorry! I'll try to make it up to you all._

_~x LizAna_

* * *

Someone shoved Bass between the shoulder blades, sending him stumbling the last step into the fight cage. He turned to glare over his shoulder at the thug, and the moron sneered back at him. Bass took note of the guy, because if he got the chance later, he'd happily return the favor, and throw in some broken teeth for free.

The crowd cheered as he strode into the middle of the cage and faced off with Connor. Despite the ruckus, the kid was focused on him, and didn't look too nervous or anxious. Good thing, too, because the plan all hinged on Connor keeping his cool.

Gould stood on a platform outside the cage, and yelled at them to begin the fight. Bass turned his back on the man, and settled into a fighting stance, catching Connor's eye.

"You remember everything I told you?"

They began circling each other, as Connor nodded.

"Pressure points are tricky, kid. Do it wrong and it either won't work, or you could actually kill me."

Connor glared at him. "I got it the first ten times you explained. I won't mess it up."

"Both our lives are counting on it."

Connor's glare intensified. "Thanks, that's really helping right now."

Bass sunk deeper into his fighting stance. "Let's get on with it then… don't take this personally."

He hauled back and punched the kid, catching him in the jaw. Connor half stumbled to his knees, but pushed upright again in another second. The crowd around them roared, chanting for more.

"What the hell?" Connor wiped the back of his hand across the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"This is meant to be a fight to the death, Connor. I can't just give up, we've got to make it look real, otherwise Gould will suspect something."

Connor gave a single, tight nod, anger in his expression. "Fine, I can play it like that."

Bass read the kid's intentions too late, and Connor caught him with a right hook to the guts. He wheezed, doubling over as the kid added an elbow to the side of the head. Bass shoved him backward, and then took another swing at him, but Connor ducked, before ramming another fist into his ribs.

Breathing heavy, Bass backed off for a second to get his bearings, before charging back in. A frustrated kind of rage started bubbling from deep within him, the screwed up events of the night before feeding the fury; finding Connor and Charlie together, and then their plan to get the diamonds crashing and burning, and the helpless dread simmering away that something bad had happened to Charlie while he'd been locked up and unable to help her. Tingling ferocity burned through his limbs, and for half a second he wanted to let the pent-up viciousness free to beat the ever-living crap out of Connor. But the kid didn't deserve it, and if they wanted to get out of Vegas alive, then he had to stick with the plan and let Connor get him into a choker hold, so they could pretend like the kid had strangled him to death.

Bass landed a few more restrained hits on Connor, and then caught his eye with a subtle nod. Connor got behind him, and wrapped an arm around his neck, before grabbing a handful of his hair with the other hand. Bass made a half-assed attempt at getting free, but Connor tightened his hold, just as they'd planned.

Except then, everything went to hell. Something flared in the back of the crowd, and then flames start licking up the wall of the tent. People started screaming and then scrambling to escape.

Connor let him go as chaos erupted around the outside of the cage. Gould stood in the middle of his platform, looking pissed and started ordering men to fight the fire. Gunfire sputtered, and some of Gould's men started going down. Gould took a hit, and crashed backward off the platform, as more of the tent went up in flames.

"Um, I don't know about you, but I'd really prefer not to cook inside this cage when the rest of the tent goes up around us," Connor muttered, the slightest hint of panic in his voice.

"Come on, then." Bass hurried over to the gate, Connor on his heels. He didn't want to say it out loud, didn't even want to let the thought cross his mind, but their chances of getting out of this cage weren't looking good. Gould had the only key, and the man could well have been killed by the shot that'd taken him down. Bass didn't imagine anyone would go out of their way to bother freeing the night's entertainment before they fled the fire.

Thick, black smoke started lowering as another tent wall and some of the stands went up in flames. Bass coughed, rattling the cage door in frustration. Through the haze, Gould appeared, hunched over and stumbling. For half a second, Bass thought his eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because surely the ass-wipe wouldn't have dragged his sorry, injured carcass over here to free them out of the goodness of his heart. But then Bass got a glimpse of the person behind Gould, who held the guy up by the shoulder, and had a gun pressed against his side.

Duncan shoved Gould, and the guy slammed into the opposite side of the bars with a groan. "Now open the cage, or I'll shoot you again and take the keys from your dead body."

Bass caught the death-glare Gould aimed at him, before the man pulled out his keys and unlocked the gate, muttering every curse word under the sun. Duncan pulled the gate open once it was unlocked, and Bass ushered Connor through. As he came out second, Bass lunged toward Gould, yanking the machete Gould always carried on him out of its sheath and swiping it across Gould's neck.

The man grabbed at the wound as he dropped to his knees, blood gushing over his hands. Even as his eyes dulled, he pitched forward to land face down on the ground.

"Was that necessary?" Duncan shot him an exasperated glare.

Bass pointed at the dead body with the long knife. "He would have never stopped coming after us, you really want a snake like that following you around? And how come you just didn't kill him yourself? You're not going soft, are you?"

Duncan shrugged, as if she didn't really care.

"While you guys debate the merits of killing people, I'm getting out of here." Connor didn't wait for them to answer, but ducked his head and ran toward where the last few people were escaping the tent, almost half of it now engulfed.

Bass followed the kid outside, almost losing him in the thick crowd of people scattering out in the street. Several other tents and shanties had gone up.

"Is this all you handiwork?" Bass asked Duncan as they dodged people, heading for the main gates leaving town.

"This is the kind of distraction you should have created the first time around, when you went for those diamonds," she answered as her men started falling in behind her.

"Yeah, burning all of New Vegas to the ground is one hell of a distraction. If someone doesn't get those fires under control, there'll be nothing left."

Duncan tossed a quick look over her shoulder as they stepped through the town gates. "Makes no difference to me, I won't be coming back again."

"Well, its about time, considering your luck on the tables."

Duncan shot him a pissed off glare, so he grinned at her in response.

Connor had slowed now that they'd left the town limits, and Bass caught up with him as they reached the low, scraggly scrub.

Two forms melted out of the shadows, and Bass bought up the machete, half-stepping in front of Connor, who had no weapon. But he relaxed as he recognized the tumble of messy blond hair belonging to Charlie, and the familiar swagger that could only be Miles.

They crossed the sparse patch of dirt to meet each other.

"We're here to rescue you." Miles announced, hooking his hands into his belt.

Bass gave a short, relieved laugh, almost unable to believe that he and Connor had managed to get out of that tight situation in one piece… though it was mostly thanks to Duncan. She'd just whitewashed her living here to help him, so he hoped that meant she'd decided to sign on with his cause.

"Thanks, but the position has already been filled." Bass tilted his head. "Miles, meet Duncan. She's responsible for all the commotion tonight."

"_She_ saved you." Charlie had stepped forward, and cast an unimpressed glance over Duncan, her apathetic opinion of the situation apparent in the tone of her voice.

"Yeah, baby girl, I saved him." Duncan sent her a snide look. "And what were you doing while I was taking care of that? Went and got your daddy to fix the problem for you?"

"Oh no, she didn't." Charlie started forward, but Bass caught her with an arm around her waist, while Miles grabbed onto her shoulder.

"Ladies, while this might be more than a little entertaining under other circumstance, right now, I really think we need to get the hell out of Dodge, before any of Gould's men decide they want some payback." Bass shoved Charlie back a step, and she shot him a thwarted glare, before crossing her arms.

Duncan shifted back, sending him a quick nod. "I've still got some men to round up. If you start heading back to Willoughby, I'll catch up with you in a few hours."

"And now she's going back with us?" The glare Charlie sent Duncan could have cut glass.

"Charlie, that's enough," Miles murmured.

Charlie glanced away from them, her stance tight. Why ever the hell Duncan and Charlie clashed personality-wise, now wasn't the time to hash it out. Bass glanced over his shoulder at Duncan, who sent him a short wave. He nodded in return, before she set off with the few men who'd joined her as they'd left the town.

"Well, come on. As fun as this road trip _wasn't_, I'd really like to start heading back to Willoughby." Miles clapped Connor on the shoulder. "Remember, kid, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

Connor shot Miles a confused look as they headed toward the shadowed scrub. Bass grinned at his old friend's antics, but before he could follow, Charlie stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Monroe, I'm sorry I left you, and I'm sorry I couldn't get back here faster. I made a call to go get Miles, even though it might not have been the right one—"

"Hey, no, don't second guess yourself." Bass turned to fully face her. "You did the right thing, going to get Miles. I would have been pissed if you'd tried to get back into Vegas on your own."

Charlie stared up at him, her blue eyes troubled. "I might be willing to take a dumb risk every now and then, but I knew it wouldn't help anything if I got caught as well. But it felt wrong, just leaving you like that."

He shot her a half-smile. "Yeah, I was worried about you too. I didn't want to think the worst, but not know what had happened to you, well that kind of sucked."

Charlie sent him a hesitant smile in return. "Careful, Monroe, or people might start to think you actually care about me."

Bass slung one arm around her shoulder and pulled her in to his chest for a quick moment. "We wouldn't want anyone thinking that, now, would we?"

He let her go again and then stepped back, avoiding her gaze.

"We better get going, or Miles will have headed half way back to Willoughby without us," Charlie said as she took another step back.

Bass nodded and turned, but a jolt of surprise brought him up short. Jason Neville stood a few steps away, arms crossed and posture ridged as he glanced back and forth between him and Charlie.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Bass clenched his hand around the machete he'd sheathed in his belt.

"Oh yeah, him and Tom had holed up with Miles when I got back to Willoughby. They insisted on coming to help rescue you."

"Did they now?" Bass murmured.

"Yeah, it was only a few hundred miles out of our way, but I won't expect a thank you, or anything." Jason's glare intensified. "Come on, Miles wants to cover as much ground tonight as we can."

Jason didn't wait for either of them to answer, before turning his back on them and stalking into the shadows.

Bass shared a quick look with Charlie, and he could tell from her expression she trusted the Neville's about as much as he did, smart girl that she was. He sighed as he gestured for Charlie to go ahead of him, and then he fell into step behind her.

He'd told Miles once before that Tom Neville could be an asset against the Patriots. No one was as crafty as Tom, the old son of a bitch. Unfortunatley, the reality of apparently having Neville on-side left Bass with a cold sensation creeping under his skin. One thing was for sure, he'd be watching his back as long as Tom and Jason Neville were around.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N - Wow, two chapters within a few days! This scene came to me and I just had to get it down. I've got another in mind after this one, so hopefully I'll have time to get that out sometime this week, possibly before the new episode airs. Anyway, I felt some of the following conversations had to happen, so I hope it doesn't come across as too melodramatic or anything. There does seem to be a fine line between gripping drama and ridiculous, TV soap type scenes :D  
_

_As always, happy reading!_

_~x LizAna_

* * *

Charlie leaned against the tree and took a quick bite out of the apple she held, watching as men milled around the field they'd stopped in. They were half way back to Willoughby, and not exactly making camp, just taking a break for an hour or two before continuing on because Miles wanted to get back sooner rather than later. Leaving her mom behind seemed to have put him on edge.

Duncan had caught up with them an hour out of Vegas, just like she'd promised, and had around fifty men with her. Monroe had looked happy to see her and the war clan, but something about the woman put Charlie on edge. She didn't trust her, but it went deeper than that, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was about the woman that sent cold tingles down her spine.

So they'd walked all through the night, Charlie keeping to the back of their little procession, not in the mood to chat with anyone. Funnily enough, Monroe had ended up beside her, and they'd spent the dark hours in easy company, making the occasional comment or observation, or just walking in undemanding silence.

Monroe was about the only person she could tolerate right at the moment, which should have been about the most insane thing she'd ever thought. Miles had become hard to talk to, now that he and Rachel were together, it brought Charlie too close to all the simmering issues her and her mom couldn't seem to work out. Connor was nice enough, but kind of reminded her of some annoying puppy who only wanted to impress her, especially after— Well, she didn't want to think about the little moment of insanity she'd initiated back in Vegas. And she definitely didn't want to be anywhere near Jason, even though she'd really cared about him at one stage; he was way too complicated. So, yeah, that left Monroe and his quiet understanding. She couldn't work out why they meshed so well; there should have been a million reasons why they didn't, but he was about the only one she really trusted to be herself around right now — well, as much as she could trust Monroe, anyway. A small voice in the back of her head kept trying to remind her of who he had been, what he'd directly and indirectly done to her, and that him screwing her over was probably only a matter of time.

"Not going to rest?"

Charlie glanced over her shoulder to see Monroe stepping out from a strand of trees, adjusting his low-slung belt, adorned with the machete he'd apparently stolen from the Vegas creep who'd imprisoned him and Connor.

She turned her attention back to their new companions. "Maybe I'll take a moment when we get back to Willoughby, right now, I'm too on edge."

Monroe stopped less than two steps away from her. "What's wrong, don't you like the ruthless war clan we got on side?"

"Sure, I guess if we are going on this suicide mission against the Patriots, we could use the force, but I don't trust her." She nodded toward where Duncan stood talking to the two men who must have been her seconds in command, she always had at least one of them by her side. "And I don't understand how you can trust her."

Monroe gave a short, cynical laugh. "Come on, now, Charlotte. You know I don't trust anyone."

She glanced back at him, and brought the apple up to her mouth again, but before she could finish the last half, Monroe caught her wrist and slipped the fruit out of her hand.

"Hey!"

He held her eye with a challenging expression as he took a large bite out of the apple.

"You're just not the sharing type, are you?" He sent her a smart-ass grin. "Anyhow, you can't talk, I saw you steal this from the bag of apples one of Duncan's men had in his pack."

She glared at him. Damn, she really thought no one had seen that. "I offered to buy one from him, but he wasn't dealing. If an apple got stolen, that was his own fault."

Monroe laughed, before munching through the remains of the fruit. He tossed the core aside and then braced a hand against the tree beside her head, before leaning in closer, tilting his head down a little.

"Have you been keeping an eye on Tom or Jason Neville?"

She looked up, her heart skipping a little as she met his intense blue gaze at short range. "Yeah, I'm keeping tabs on them."

Monroe gave a single, half nod. "Good, because you can bet your ass those two are up to something, and personally I'd like to find out what it is before they get a chance to act. Between you, me, and Miles, hopefully we can work out their angle before it comes around to nail us between the eyes."

She nodded, because her own thoughts had run the same scenario. "If I see anything, you'll be the first to know."

Monroe nodded, and for a long moment, his gaze roamed over her face, leaving her wondering what he saw, or what he was looking for.

"Speak of the devil... make sure you keep on your toes," Monroe murmured. He reached up and smoothed his fingers along a tumble of her hair, before pushing off from the tree and stalking away. He brushed by Jason, and the two men shared a glare as they crossed paths.

Charlie crossed her arms as Jason came to a stop in front of her. For a second, he stood there and stared at her, a hard expression on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets and posture defensive.

"What's your problem, Jason?" She asked as things quickly became uncomfortable. She straightened from her slouch against the tree.

"I'm trying to work out what could have possibly changed you so much that you'd get into bed with _him_."

He might as well have slapped her, his words a verbal assault. Shock jolted her system, but was quickly replaced by anger. "You're way out of line, and not that its any of your business, but I'm not sleeping with Monroe."

Charlie went to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. "Fine, maybe you're not sleeping with him, but you're on his side now, you actually trust him. And even if you can't admit it, you do care for him."

She yanked her arm out of his grip and took a large step back. "Oh yeah? And how did you work that out in the whole five minutes you've been here?"

Jason's features took on a sad edge, but the expression was so fleeting, she could have imagined it. "Because you look at him the same way you used to look at me."

A deep spike of something she couldn't name cut through her, and she couldn't do this conversation anymore. "Why are you here, Jason, you and your dad? I mean the real reason, 'cos I don't believe you tracked down Miles just because you want to make some joint effort against the Patriots."

Jason took a step back, his face closing down into a detached mask. "If you had any sense, you'd stay away from Monroe."

He didn't say anything else, and obviously didn't expect a response, as he spun and stalked off in the opposite direction Monroe had gone a few minutes earlier.

With a long sigh, Charlie turned, intending to go find somewhere she could be alone for five minutes, and almost walked right into Connor behind her.

"Let me guess, ex-boyfriend?" Connor rested a hand on the butt of his holstered gun.

"You have got to be kidding me. Did you guys choreograph this, or something?" She rolled her eyes and shoved past Connor, sending him stumbling back a step.

"Hey!" He didn't let her get away, but kept along side her as she walked. "Why are you pissed at me for?"

She cut him a sideways glare, wishing he could take a hint and leave her alone. "I'm not pissed at you, so much as the entire male population, does that help?"

He caught her shoulder and pulled her to a stop. "Come on, Charlie, I just want five seconds of your time. You've been avoiding me ever since we left New Vegas."

She shrugged him off and faced him, bracing a hand on her hip. "Yeah, I have, so why don't you take that for the message it is."

Connor ran a hand through his hair, and gave a short, humorless laugh. "Wow, ouch. Okay, so that's it then?"

"Yeah that's it, because this was nothing to begin with. I told you, you were cute—"

"And you were bored. Yeah, I got it the first time, thanks." He shook his head, glancing down, before meeting her eye again, his dark gaze earnest. "Look, Charlie. I get that maybe you don't think much of me, whether its because I'm Monroe's son and you think I've got the same bastard DNA he does, or if its something else, I don't know. But quite clearly we're going to be spending a lot of time together, and even if you think its pointless because we'll be dead inside a year or whatever, well, I'd still like for us to get to know each other, at least be friends."

"Friends?" She scoffed, and crossed her arms, pretending like his words hadn't struck something inside her. She didn't want to care about Connor. She didn't need another person to cry over when the inevitable happened and he got killed. But she couldn't deny there was something way to charming about him, just like his father. Connor might want to deny it, but the two of them had more than a little in common.

"Just think about it, okay?" With one last solemn look aimed in her direction, he turned and walked away, heading off toward where Miles and Monroe stood talking.

Monroe caught her eye, his gaze moving from her to Connor, and then back again. Something sparked in the way he stared at her, sending her heart thumping.

With a muttered curse, she turned away from him and walked into the nearest tree line, definitely needing that quiet five minutes after putting up with all that stupid drama.


End file.
